Fall of Innocence
by Krahae
Summary: HIATUS Not happy with it. Probably scrapping it. Move along.
1. Preface

_**Harry Potter in, The Fall of Innocence.**_

Following the story Key to Summer, and detailing Harry's adventures abroad, with Nymphadora Tonks, in Salem.

Introducing Lind, and a few others who will be regular cast for some time, as well as Salem Academy, New England's progressive magical school.

Synopsis of Key, for those new to the storyline:

Tonks, seeing Harry's condition and state at Privet after losing Sirius, decides to tentatively begin contact with the young man. Though he is sequestered in a home he detests, Harry works to make the best of it, studying, and considering his future. Stumbling on information leading him to think his wards aren't as solid as believed, he moves to act out on his own, only to find help in an unexpected place: Tonks and the Department of Mysteries.

The balance of his summer is spent puzzling over a gift from Sirius, which is revealed to be a new wand, allowing him to use magic outside of Ministry monitoring, and the knowledge of wandless magic. Though he's not presented much opportunity to practice with either, Harry uses his limited skill in both to assist himself and Tonks in a few adventures, in finding his birthplace and asserting his legal claim to his own fate.

At the reading of Sirius' will, there are those that work to keep Harry out of the knowledge of not only his godfather's intent, but also his parents' own. Through tactics extreme, Sirius ensures Harry the Black inheritance, also unwittingly placing the young man at the mercy of magics unfamiliar.

Soon, Harry must find a new Lord Black, so he can hold his own family's power, as the Wizengamot will not allow a singular entity the power of two Ancient Houses. Politics unusual leads Harry to Narcissa, as his choice. What follows is a maddening trip through the politics of the Ministry, a choosing of sides and allies, and the Order pressing their last efforts to reclaim the errant Boy-Who-Lived.

Confronting the Headmaster on his own grounds, Harry and Tonks unwittingly open Pandora's Box, revealing a web of lies and intrigue that have the potential to turn the wizarding world upside down. Dumbledore has deceived them all, and in the effort to right his one grievous wrong, gets locked into a cycle of lies that end with Harry. Having long ago vowed to never directly counter Grindelwald, in his youth Albus made another pact with a then Tom Riddle, to see his once closest friend turned back to the light. Tom, though takes this chance to strip Grindelwald of his power, and turn Dumbledore's vow against him.

Realizing his error, Dumbledore seeks solace in prophecy, and begins the series of events, leading us to the young man who will be Harry Potter.

Seeking to distance himself from the machinations of wizards and prophecy, and train himself for his task at living, if not battling a dark lord, Harry takes council from Moody, that perhaps it is time for a change in scenery. Salem beckons, promising a clean slate, for a young man with too much already to bear.

Summer is over, and Fall is just beginning.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Harry Potter in, Fall of Innocence**_

**Chapter One.**

_I will accept any rules that you feel necessary to your freedom. I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do._  
– Professor Bernardo de la Paz, _The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress_ by Robert A. Heinlein

Compared to Floo and Portkeys, Harry was rather pleased with the experience of flying on an airplane. Sadly, that same opinion could not be shared by his traveling companion, Remus Lupin. Whether because of his mostly magical upbringing, his peculiar nature and sensitivities, or just a case of motion sickness, Harry's other guardian and friend on their trip abroad did not enjoy the experience nearly so much.

Settling back into his seat tiredly, Remus looked over at Harry and tried to muster his composure. "Harry... why on earth could we not have used an international Portkey?"

Harry made a mental note, another mark on the proverbial wall signifying the number of times Moony had asked this. "Tonks explained this before we left, as have I three times now... We couldn't use a Portkey because they're monitored, for international use. That could get back to Voldemort or the Order, and then all this would be for nothing." Grinning, Harry leaned back and folded his arms behind his head, "Besides, Salem is supposedly one of the more modern schools for magic. It would do well to get a bit more exposure to the Muggle side of things."

Groaning, Lupin closed his eyes and tried to ignore the things that were driving him mad on the flight. The constant sound of engines, the smell of too many people and the recycled, canned air, the motion and realization he was thousands of feet in the air in a thin metal tube... "Bloody," he managed to choke out, before dashing back to the restroom again.

"I'm not sure why he volunteered to go," Tonks mumbled from Harry's other side, as she shifted about. Unlike Remus, his other companion for the journey Nymphadora Tonks seemed to be taking well to the trip. Well enough to sleep through most of it, in fact. Blinking blearily at her watch, the former Auror and Order member yawned, before turning a dial and setting another silent alarm. She did this to keep herself from lapsing in her sleep, into her normal form, not something Harry would have minded, but she seemed nervous to the point of paranoia about.

Shrugging, Harry opened his magazine again, a Muggle publication apparently aimed at young men. "He mentioned something about the packs, and Fenrir. Didn't ask much else, as I really have no idea outside of the DADA class about Were's." Harry hazarded a look around, amused and somewhat sad. For all their travel arrangements were Muggle, their clothing was Muggle – and not the usual preposterous wizarding mistake at it, and even his reading was Muggle, they still put up Notice-Me-Not and baffle wards to keep their conversation masked. The downside to this, was Harry practically had to pull a stewardess into their aisle to get one's attention. He was less than trilled, for other reasons, but those weren't on his mind at the moment.

Or so he kept telling himself.

Focusing on the words in front of him, he has little luck in banishing the specters of the last few months from his mind. The largest of those being a banshee named Dumbledore that kept haunting him whenever he had a moment's peace. He and Tonks had opened Pandora's box in a number of ways, by simply trying to make the man confront his own actions and hopefully amend his ways. Instead they had practically broken the Order, as Dumbledore revealed his past in a moment of weakness, spurred on by another of their plans going awry. Completely at a loss of how to deal with what they'd unleashed, Harry had decided to move forward with his plan, discussed in detail with Moody, to put some distance between himself and his reputation and try to train as he could, away from it all.

He told himself again, that he wasn't just running away from his mistake, and trying to ignore it.

Moody's reasoning behind the suggestion at first confused Harry, as he'd never considered just... leaving the country before. When the man asked what he had there, to keep him from it though, the Boy-Who-Lived had to seriously consider the question. Other than friends whom he was growing more distant with, and those currently with him, little was there to really anchor him. Oh, true, he'd miss his friends in the DA, as well as the professors, but if Moody's faith in that this would help him train faster, or end the way sooner was correct, then Harry figured they'd forgive him.

Besides, Moody's other point was very true. If Harry did die in the effort, there wasn't much chance for seeing the world after the fact.

For his own reasoning, Harry considered the relevant education he'd received. Most of his Defense training was self-taught, with a small dose of practical class from Lupin and Moody. Otherwise, he'd been severely lacking in that department, and in truth, that was the most needful of all of his classes, to his future. Snorting quietly as his eyes scanned over words he wasn't reading, Harry wondered what the hell was was supposed to do, if confronted with the Dark Lord as he was. Challenge him with his fifth-year repertoire of spells and dazzle him with Dumbledore's so called power of love? Not that he even knew that the man was speaking of – he'd seen what was behind that door in the Ministry. It was a mysterious girl in Unspeakable's robes, who's name he still didn't know. Admittedly, not just her, but many others like her, but still.

Closing the magazine, Harry looked over to his most valued friend, the one that had pulled him from the Dursleys and put so much of herself on the line for him. Tonks had lost her job, lost her position in the Order, nearly lost her memory and was at risk of losing her few friendships, all over getting involved with him. Despite it, she would be berating him if she could hear his thoughts. Know that he felt guilty still for causing-

"Harry, don't make me stun you," the drowsy woman grumbled, shifting so her forehead was against the window, and the vents were blowing in her face. "'Cause I will."

Chuckling quietly, Harry settled his mind and practiced the augmented Occlumency that the recent adventures had opened up to him. Thanks to Sirius' will and the extraordinary measures he'd taken to ensure none of his family's resources fell into Voldemort's hands, Harry had been literally inducted as a blood-member of the Black family. With that, a strong magical tie had been made to all the members, including Tonks' aunt Narcissa. The odd result of this, was a new branch of magic, to him at least, that involved familial ties and how those ancient families bound themselves to one another, and their homes and work. It also explained the loyalty and powers to a degree, of house elves, and how some magic and talents passed from one family member to another.

Recently, he'd discovered that the bond with the family Black had also made it so, if either he or Tonks were experiencing strong emotions, or were thinking heavily on something, the other could 'hear' such going on. Often, to Harry it sounded like Tonks was mumbling under her breath, or in a distant room ranting, despite her closeness. She insisted that Harry sounded more like he was screaming in her ear. For each other's peace of mind, the two had begun practicing the peculiar Occlumency that the blood magic, or bloodlaw as they'd come to think of it, allowed, closing one's mind off by diverting thoughts and emotions down the pathways of magic that tied them to their heritage. Infinitely more enjoyable than the mental assault he'd suffered with Snape, this seemed nearly natural.

Aside from Remus' difficulty with motion and Tonks' light snoring, Harry had little to distract him from his thoughts. For all he had tried to read the magazine in hand, he mind insisted on wandering, and straying to odd topics, some of which he wasn't very fond of. Ginny, for instance. Sighing, Harry shook off his guilt over the young woman's state. It wasn't his fault, and to be honest, there wasn't a way he could see that would have let her avoid that misfortune.

Realizing he'd be in for some difficulty if his musing woke Tonks again, Harry leaned his chair back, and settled the magazine over his eyes. Grinning, he realized the page he'd stopped on was for a hair coloring and treatment product. Well, he knew one person at least that didn't need such things. Closing his eyes, Harry let his mind drift forward to settle on the excitement of another year of school, this one maybe actually learning, and not the demented shuffle of intrigue.

-

* * *

-

Tonks let herself relax, as Harry drifted off to sleep. She'd been half listening to his mental ramble, and was waiting in case things went too dark, knowing his tendency to beat himself up over things. Pleased that their few talks, and sometimes arguments about such had stuck with the young man, she relaxed back into her seat.

Not the only one with anxieties over the trip, she was more worried about the logical things. Though Harry assured her that anything they needed, he'd be able to manage, it still irked the former Auror that he'd be the one responsible for most of their funds, as well as other material situations. Independent to a fault, Tonks had to do a lot of tongue-holding and biting of words to keep from sounding like an ungrateful git.

It helped to think that all this was for Harry's benefit, and so it was fine for him to take responsibility, but then, why was she here? Thanks to her loss of a job, and then the whirlwind summer, she'd not had a steady income for some time, and that rubbed her the wrong way. Lupin assured her that she'd likely be able to take her position back, but after all this... she was unsure if she wanted it.

Besides, with them spending at least a full school year in the Americas, being an Auror was again, useless. So, planning ahead she'd looked into possibly getting a position at Salem, and while Harry was going to be getting accustomed with the nuances of magical America, she would be interviewing for a job.

This brought up, in her mind, what Lupin was going to be doing, but the man had, as Harry mentioned, been tight-lipped about his own goals so far. All that knew is that he had business to attend in America, that he'd be happy to help them in any way he could, while there, and that he was loyal to Harry, despite his position in the Order. Such was enough for Harry, so Tonks figured it enough for her, in the case of an old friend. Besides, it would be a welcome change to be able to keep from being the only one, looking around corners and peering into shadows.

-

* * *

-

"I'm sorry, I was just... so relieved to be on solid ground again."

"Honestly, Remus," throwing her hands up, Tonks reclaimed their 'baggage', in truth just a bunch of old robes and spare clothes packed into a few cases, and glared at the Werewolf, where he stood looking contrite.

Harry couldn't contain himself and started laughing again. "Sorry, just never imagined I'd see a Werewolf getting that friendly with a loading ramp." Picking up a parcel of his own, Harry smirked at the color that continued to rise on Lupin's face. "But hey, it'll be a great memory to share with the Order when we get back."

Blanching, his former professor simply sighed and hoped that his companions good graces would allow him to avoid such a humiliating scene. "Once we have everything, there's a Port of call office just by the rentals. We can get our papers sorted and get normal transportation to Salem there," the older man explained, hoping to gloss over and move on from his embarrassing scene.

Passing from the gates into the airport, JFK International, proper, Harry was assaulted by the sheer number of people, milling about. He was warned in Heathrow that airports were busy, but due to Britain's Ministry being in close with both the magical and mundane, there was a modicum of separation between the two. Here, it seemed that nothing of the sort was in place, just off the plane. It was then that Harry overheard the intercom, "All JFK International magical travelers, be advised. There is a mild confounding field within the terminal. Point-me and minor magics are permissible in the terminal, but any exceptional use of spells will be subject to fine or harsher penalties. Do not harass your fellow travelers. Please see the Port of call offices for further information." At first he'd thought it was just the usual drone of airport notices, but as he passed the exits into the main area, it seemed to become clearer.

Shrugging, he noticed a small number of other travelers glancing around and discreetly pulling wands as well. A number of those seemed to look toward some very severely dressed men in black suits, all with dark glasses and what looked like some device in their ears. Assuming those to be the source of "harsher penalties", Harry looked around and saw the signs directing travelers toward various locations. "Over here," he indicated, and his small party moved aside, to inspect the sign.

"Looks like more confounding and Notice-Me-Nots at work," Tonks indicated, pointing to the entry on the board, reading "_Magical transport and assistance_", which was situated below "_International Portkey Office_". Checking the number and code for that area, she led them on, seemingly at home in such a busy location. "Does everyone have their papers?" The question wasn't the first time such had been asked, and Harry checked his pocket again for the rather costly Goblin-forged passport and identification he had made before their trip.

One of the things he'd had impressed upon him, by both Remus and Tonks before the trip, was his own status and notoriety. For one, though Britain's issues and uprisings weren't the only ones in the magical world, Voldemort, and before him Grindelwald were fairly large and well known wizards, around the globe. Particularly in Grindelwald's case, where it had taken not only much of Europe, but also some international help to still the advance of his forces. Due to the nature of the magical world and information in it, his face and name were well known, even in the Americas, so the first thing he and his group had done before departing, was to go and acquire new identities.

For Tonks, such a thing was practically rote, so the process was simple, if a bit more drastic than she'd expected. Though she had occasionally gone undercover for the Ministry, they had all the controls on identification and paperwork, so such a thing internally was much simpler. Internationally, it required a much different set of rules be worked with. Pulling out her own, and checking her companion's as well, the woman once again scrutinized them for any problems.

Tonks' own new identity was one she'd used in the past, so was comfortable enough for her. Natalie Thompson was a cover she'd used to gather intelligence in Ireland, early on in her career. Scanning over the others, she nodded as Lupin's face looked back from a picture captioned Andrew McDermott, a name which he found rather amusing for some reason. His cover was as simple as hers, a pair of adults, asked by Harry's family to accompany him abroad. It was Harry's paperwork she initially had issue with. One, his face was far too recognizable, and so they had to figure out some way to fix this. Though a permanent option wasn't to his liking, Harry agreed that Polyjuice was also not optimal, due to short duration and the difficulty of using it. Tonks also warned that many places had scans for that, airports being the most likely, particularly the international variety. Many small charms, though, weren't so contraband. Scar lessening and hair color changing, being the most mundane, but combined with a tanning charm and a small glamor on his glasses to make his eyes look more blue than green, and even Tonks had problems recognizing him. Between her background as an Auror, the Goblin's network with information, and his own stubborn aesthetics, they'd settled on Joseph Black. Initially Tonks was vehemently against anything that could tie in Harry with either of his family bonds, but his reasoning seemed solid, if not sound.

Harry figured if someone wanted to find him bad enough, to infiltrate the records system of two countries, correlate an alias to him, get behind the cosmetic charms he'd had placed in a small necklace and glasses to recognize him, then likely they'd be able to do so if he'd taken any other name as well. Grudgingly, Tonks relented and Harry got his alias, which also seemed to amuse him. She wondered if there was some joke she simply wasn't getting. So, with papers in hand, a very normal but pretty young woman who could be her mother at twenty, an unchanged but cleaned and spruced Lupin, and a dirty blonde, blue eyed and tanned Harry made their way through the airport.

The Port of call offices were large, comfortably furnished and rather populated, but the lines seemed to be moving along well enough, when they entered. Each of them took a different line, and with a glance to his companions, Harry tried to settle his excitement. He was here, in a different country, free of the reputation and the madness that had hounded him since his parent's death. Not truly free, he had to remind himself as the prophecy, even if he didn't believe in the vague thing, Voldemort still seemed very intent on exploring. He'd come to have the time and opportunity to learn and prepare. Not escape.

Stepping up to the counter, he was mildly shocked when the slight sense of mental probing came from the woman across from him. Schooling his features, Harry carefully raised his Occlumency shields, focusing on the comfortable and cozy clutter of the dormitory-like flat he'd left behind in London. "Could you tell me the reason for your visit?"

"I'll be attending Salem Academy in the fall," he replied, and smiled honestly. "Been looking forward to learning something new all summer." Remembering one thing Tonks impressed on him, when it came to Occlumency and lying, he peppered in a number of half-truths to help. Though he didn't like lying, he'd like being shipped back to Britain less.

Nodding, the woman dropped eye contact and went about processing him a student visa. "This card will appear as a normal visa for the same purpose. Salem works closely with the government, so any inquires in a mundane fashion will be forwarded to the Non-magical Cooperation department there." Pausing her speech for a moment, she stamped a few things, and added a charm to his passport. "Your visa is good for one year. You can apply for an extension at any of the offices listed on the card, if you tap it with your wand and say 'help, locations'. Your government has an embassy in Boston, if you need assistance of that type." Smiling up at him, she handed the documents back, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Black?"

Grinning, he only nodded and inquired about a Portkey to Salem, to which he was given a ticket to take next door, to the IPO, the International Portkey Office. Meeting up with his traveling companions there, Harry was chided by Tonks to try and look more excited. People simply weren't pointing and grinning back enough. Feeling abashed, Harry calmed when Remus simply clapped him on the back and told him to ignore Natalie, that she had a rather fresh teller who'd asked her a few too many personal questions.

The IPO was a clean, efficient office that seemed to have a rather swift turn around. The travel agent at the door checked their passports for the proper stamp, charm and data, then waved them on to the proper line, without much conversation. The three of them were shortly looking at a rather portly man in his middle years, with rather thick glasses. "Good afternoon," he greeted, mechanically. "Destination, and number of travelers?"

"Salem, Massachusetts," Remus replied. "Three to travel."

Nodding, the man pulled out a small segment of cord, snipped it with practiced ease and tapped a wand against it, intoning a bored "_Portus_". Handing them the Portkey, the man scribbled down a small note, of which he kept a copy and tacked it onto a stack already on a push-pin. The other he slid across the counter. Remus placed his wand on the form, and a small stamp appeared. Harry watched curiously, until the stamp was evident, letting him know this was a paid service. "Your activation word is 'Salem 548', please enjoy your trip. Next in line, please."

Dismissed, the trio moved aside and into the file that was leaving the offices, toward the approved Portkey departure pad. Though not traveling far, such things still had regulation, in keeping any illegal passage to a minimum, also to ensure proper safety. Also, Harry figured, it kept the place clean, with all the small bits of cord, paper, and whatnot being used as disposable Portkeys for so many travelers.

The pad was a simple thing, little more than a long, turnstile regulated line that had what looked to be a subway platform at the end. People filed in, waited for a light to go green on the board, then activated their Portkeys. Inbound Portkeys arrived during red phases, apparently regulated by wards, or some traffic signals that he had little comprehension of. When it was their turn, the three made their way to the platform, and with a nervous, excited laugh Harry sent them on their way. "Salem, 548!"

-

* * *

-

_Interlude: Lind, and Salem._

The young girl stumbled, falling to her knees in the rain. A thin wail broke from her throat, as she gasped for breath and fell to her side, uncaring of the mud and foul water that soaked into her hair and clothes. Storm winds raged about above the slight form, trees swaying and shedding leaves about her in the torrents of water the New England rains were dropping. Slowly, the girl raised honey-colored eyes and tried to peer through the dark, searching for shelter. A wave of weakness washed over her and the young woman fell again, crying out as her cheek struck a stone.

"Hello? Who's there?" Shortly the voice was followed by a bright light, cutting into the stormy night and picking out the red cloaked and hooded form. "Are you all right?" Receiving no answer, the aging woman crept forward and knelt, poking the still form gently with her finger. "Hey, what's wrong? What are you doing, out so late?"

Shuddering, the young woman turned and looked through blurry eyes to the woman leaning over her. Her mouth worked a moment, before the woman made out the word she was trying to say and the matron's eyes went wider. "Oh Merlin, you're a witch," she murmured, tucking her coat about her and looking around warily. Seeing no one nearby, she pulled her wand and cast a warming charm on the shivering girl, leaning down after to draw her up and to her feet. "There you go, now. Can you hang on? Going to get you to a clinic."

Shaking her head hard twice, she clung to the woman's coat, a single word repeating softly, as her breath would allow. "But child, what could you need in Salem that's so important?" When the girl made to push free and stand on her own, the woman heaved a sigh and took her arm again. "Fine, stubborn youth. Where did you need to go?"

"Corner of Bishop and Parker," the girl spoke clearly, finally. Her accent was heavy, Germanic giving her words odd inflection.

Raising a brow, the woman simply shrugged and settled her arm about the girl more tightly. "You would be wanting to head right into the thick of things," she muttered, Disapparating with a crack, during a peal of thunder.

An hour later found the young woman, laying under a blanket near the hearth of a cozy room and far from the storm raging outside. "You found her out on Gallows Hill park you say? The ball park?" The speaker was an older man, late in years. His face was well worn, but he carried his age well. His hair was short and gray, peppered in places with black, which matched his checkered doctor's satchel. Lines about his eyes and mouth spoke of equal parts joy and sadness, at this moment framing a face set in concern. Sitting by the table in the small kitchen, was the woman who found the young witch, sipping a cup of coffee.

Thinking back on the night's events, she nodded, "Off the way a bit, in the trees but yes," looking over to the resting girl, the older woman's lips narrowed. "Never seen her before, in Salem. And that accent of hers. Where do you think she's from?"

"Germany, Büren." The two started, as the girl sat up, albeit slowly from where she had lain. "I've come for the Salem school."

The two looked to each other, then the girl, as she tried to arrange the blanket about her shoulders. "School doesn't start for nearly a month yet, do you have some family nearby you'll be staying with?"

Blinking at the two, she nodded briefly. "Yes, of a kind. They will know me."

Puzzled by her answer but writing it off as a quirk from her grasp of English, the doctor moved to the girl's side and held out a small card, "This is a potion order, for the apothecary down the street. The woman there," pointing, he indicated the woman with her coffee, who waved, "Mary, brought you here to Graymalkin's as you asked, but this is only an inn." When the slight witch nodded her understanding, the man smiled and continued. "Now, it looks like you did something to drain yourself quite badly, so for tonight at least, get some rest. They'll be open in the morning."

"Yes, you just get a good night's sleep. The room is paid for, but you'll need to arrange it further than tomorrow. Since you have family, as you say, would be best to find them," the woman added, setting her coffee on a small saucer. "The Fair opens at around eight in the morning. Best not to be out before then."

The young woman nodded, murmuring her thanks before settling back into the couch, apparently content to sleep. A bit at a loss, the two adults gathered their things and made the way outside, closing the door quietly behind them. "Will she be alright?" The woman's voice was cast low, as the two walked down the stairwell to Graymalkin's common room.

Nodding, the doctor paused by the foot of the stair, looking pensive. "Don't worry on her, she'll be fine, though I wish I'd gotten her name before she nodded off."

"As you say," shaking her head, the woman sighed. "Gabby, can you get me a plate? Missed dinner." Walking to the waitress who nodded and pointed to a chair, Mary settled at the table tiredly. The doctor joined her, running a hand along his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose below his glasses.

Calling to the waitress, Gabby he guessed from what Mary had said, he asked for a cup of coffee and settled beside the woman. "I guess you're right. A lone girl, appearing out of nowhere in the middle of Salem woods. Plenty to worry about," he muttered, taking a cigar from a pocket and lighting it with a candle.

Wrinkling her nose, Mary waved a stray tendril of smoke away, "Not concerned about your own health I see." Looking up as if to see the young woman who slept upstairs, she nodded her thanks as the food and coffee were brought out. "So Dr. Conner, will you be teaching this year?"

"At Salem? Likely." Sipping the coffee, the man turned an eye to the stairs, "There hasn't been an applicant for my position yet, so I believe for at least one more year, I'll be teaching the advanced healing course. If you're worried about the girl, I'll let you know how she does, settling in."

Mary nodded, and concerned herself with the food before her. "One thing, that bothered me," she mumbled through a mouthful of food. "Her eyes."

Wilhem Connor looked up, the cup of coffee pausing half the way to his mouth, "I'd not worry about that. Probably just has a bit of Veela or Fae in her family somewhere."

Shrugging, the woman focused on the food before her. "Mm, that's true. Grandfather claimed we had some family out in Romania. Should have heard the stories he told."

Dr. Conner chuckled and nodded, leaving some change on the table for the waitress. Rising to go, he waved his goodbye to Mary, and stopped at the bar for a moment. "Aerin, a moment if you don't mind," he called, beckoning the proprietor of the inn over. She seemed too young, he thought idly, to be the owner and responsible for the most trafficked and visited inn in magical Salem. Yet the young woman, taking over for her mother almost the day she left school, had proven to be a keen and capable businesswoman.

The woman looked up and nodded, setting her tray of washing down to dry. "Will, what can I do for you tonight?"

"There's a young woman, the one we checked in with you earlier," reaching into his doctor's satchel, he laid a small package on the counter, tapping it briefly with a finger before sliding it to the woman. "Make sure she gets this in the morning."

Raising her brow, Aerin shrugged and set the parcel aside, turning back to her chores. "Sure, you're the doctor."

"How's your father doing, by the way?"

The redhead stalled a moment, hand still on the glass she was about to put away. "He's... managing. The fever gets worse at times, better at others." Swallowing, she turned and looked at the doctor steadily. "I still don't have the money to pay for the elixirs and potions. Maybe soon," shaking her head, she took a steadying breath and went back to her cleaning. "But not now."

Looking back to his hands, Wilhem sighed. "Why will you not let me help?"

"Because I hate charity."

"I'm a doctor. It's my duty to help-"

Slamming a cup down on the counter, the woman turned a cold eye to the aging doctor, "Yes. I know what your duty is. And you know how my family thinks. When I'm ready to pay for your services, I will call for you." Flicking off the electric lights she favored in the inn's kitchen and bar, she passed from behind the counter and busied herself with the last few customers. "It's late doctor."

Nodding sadly, Dr. Connor stood and retrieved his hat and coat from the door. The rains had settled to a steady fall, not the torrential downpour from earlier, so he had little concern for the weather. Settling the greatcoat about his shoulders, the man tipped the hat to the young woman, standing with her arms crossed watching him. "Good night, Miss Ritson."

"Goodbye, Will."

-

* * *

-

Waking with a start, she huddled at the head of the couch, panting, scanning the room warily. "Gregor?" Her dream faded, and memory returned to her slowly, images of a kind woman, a man with a checkered bag chased away the darker memory of a dead young man. Sighing, she rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes, "So. I made it."

Glancing around slowly, she stood and stretched, arching like a cat. It was during her looking about, inspecting the small room that she found the note and small parcel, either left by one of her benefactors or a housekeeper. After opening the box, the young woman inspected the contents curiously, wrinkling her nose at the smell. Reading the note inside, she grinned, tucking the small folded paper and the package into her robe pocket.

Patting about her person, she found everything that was necessary, and was shortly walking down the street beside Graymalkin's. The packet she'd received on the school in Salem described the local magical district as being near the inn, down the street a block. Building walls around her opened back up, and she stood confused on the street, looking around herself. "The papers said... ah."

Halfway down an alley a large iron gateway rested, the ornate scroll work and forging sweeping in great vines and flowering things. Upon it's crown were the time-blackened words "Scarborough Fair", but beyond, nothing. An empty lot, with some small rubble and then only a mortared wall were the only things the gate protected. Smiling wryly, she crossed the somewhat bustling street, small shops along it selling newspapers and succulent foods. The smells made her mouth water, and she wished then that she'd taken a moment to have the breakfast the innkeeper had offered that morning.

The gate's portal moved easily, belying the rust it seemed to bear. From within the cove, the street's sounds and sights dimmed and lessened, as if on the other side of a wall or distance. Looking about, she saw it as if from smoky glass, hazed an indistinct. Moving quickly to the mortared wall, she tapped upon it quickly three times with her wand and it shimmered, but remained. Brow furrowed, she pulled out the small brochure again, and tapped it until the passage she needed appeared. Rereading it she sighed and tapped the wall again, striding through after the shimmer while the wall was passable, according to the document.

Shrugging off the odd phantom chill that ghostwalls conveyed, she blinked at the Fair as it spread out before her. The most obvious thing to catch her eye was the Green, the massive circular lawn that dominated the center of the Fair. Around it, everything else seemed to grow or spread out, radiating from the flagstone and cobble drive around it. The manicured lawn stretched a hundred yards across, and was littered about with children playing, people laying out in the morning sun having early picnics or just walking about from one side of the Walk to the other. The Walk, as she learned it was called, was the drive itself that encompassed the Green.

Looking about herself, she strode forward to the edge of the great field, as not to stand in the way of any others passing into or out of the Fair by foot. Scarborough was literally the size of a small township, contained inside the alleyway behind the gate by powerful magics of the caliber usually employed by such places in the wizarding world as population centers and universities. To the west, along the entire southwestern quarter of the Walk was the New England Wizarding Senate, the governing body and offices of the magical community that had grown up from the first colonies. Though the United States had a centralized government, most of the regional, smaller segments of it were in control of their own sphere's of influence within the mandate of the larger body. She understood why this occurred, as a country this large could not possibly centralize it's systems so much, but didn't really concern herself with the details of how Americans governed themselves. It was enough, for her, to know where the building and the people in it were.

Given, the building itself was impressive. Nearly a cathedral in size, it incorporated some modern elements along it's facing area, by the Walk. Great stretches of glass windows swept up into gothic archways, supporting impressively sculpted buttresses that thinned up to a series of cathedraline towers. It looked, she had to admit, as if someone dropped some great old church atop a modern office building. Central to the structure was a clock tower, it's face huge and she assumed, visible from most of the Fair.

To the northwest was the housing district, dominated in the southern portion to single, sprawling mansions and their grounds, all walled and gated. She was too far for detail, but a great number of them looked to have been built soon after the city itself, borrowing influences from the colonist's roots in Europe up to a more recent Federal style, with their low-peaked roofs and simple columns. Not many of the walled properties could situate themselves in the area they seemed alloted, but the few that did, seemed intent on outclassing their neighbors.

Northerly, bordered from the decadently arranged mansions by the West Way, was the housing district proper, with its rows and rows of multistory homes. She'd seen pictures of this sort of building style in some travel guides, and made note of it. Newer in age than the other portion of the Fair dedicated to homes, there was one very notable point, that she'd recalled briefly from her brochure. In the middle of facing row, bordering the Walk was a raised dais, upon which stood a statue. Too far to see it well, she knew it to be a monument to Joseph Nash who in the late-1700's had spearheaded a movement against the magical aristocracy of Salem, which had resulted in a third of the Fair being burned to the ground. Upon those ashes, the new residential area had arisen, a testament to the wizarding people's tenacity. Heralded as a hero of the common witch and wizard, the monument still stood, and behind it the homes and right to have them which Nash had fought for.

The northeast began the market district, the northernmost and closest to the residential area being the most trafficked, which seemed counter to the general entrance to the Fair, being on the far south. There she could see shop faces, nearly a dozen facing the Walk. Behind them and above she knew more houses and smaller shops to be, beyond her view among the small streets lacing the block. Similar was the far eastern section, but this area, and the portion stretching to the south were older, less bright seeming. The shops had a withdrawn cast and the styles were of subdued colors and had less windows about them. The Walk also broke free from its circular path here, and a portion curved from her, as well as extended south from the east, toward a tunnel that rose sharply into the blank brick wall that bordered the Fair.

The Wall itself was of note, as she squinted to peer up and around at the tall phenomenon. Precisely as tall as the surrounding buildings, the Wall served to muggles much as a window. They peered in one side, and saw what was on the outside of the far opposite portion. The effect was much like writing a map on a rubber sheet, then folding a baseball inside. Where Scarborough lay, was with the ball. The magics that powered the heavy enchantment were not cheap in coming, though.

Within the Green were the three statues that represented the founding wizards of Scarborough within Salem, famous and infamous for their achievement. Due to them, New England had this small pocket of protected life – but it came at a high cost. When they had tapped the local magical currents, the Ley lines among them, to fuel the permanent spells that would protect Scarborough Fair, the resulting drain had left the surrounding fields less productive, livestock grew sick from lack of food, and a wave of sickness and malaise had settled about the area. Danvers was particularly hard hit, and from the superstitious and in some cases, openly resentful muggle population sprang the Witch Trials.

Starting much earlier, but culminating in the early 1690's, the persecution of magicians, squibs and their relations had turned to the nearly fanatical levels. Things had only been halted by the forward action of the magical community and a rigid adherence to the Statue of Secrecy, as well as a timely publishing boom from allies and friends in influential station.

Oddly, due to the horribly inhumane events, 'witch stories' had since been met with not only high skepticism but almost a feverish avoidance. This made it much easier to be slightly more obvious about one's nature, but the Statute still held.

She'd read all this in her previous history lessons, and knew it well enough, but to be in Salem was a different experience. The Green was unnaturally well-tended, and obviously the age and prosperity of the Fair had been in place long before the Trials. Another factor came to mind of the reason behind the charges and claims, that of jealousy. Muggles living near families either related to or who were magical, would see the obvious differences in their ways of life. With things so dire, in those days with the expansion of families into either crowded land or the wilds beyond, it was simple human nature to turn on one another.

The musing on Salem's past ended as she passed the corner of the East Way, the large bounding branch of the Walk that separated the more lively northeast market from the southern one. Walking into the rising sun of morning, she was shortly cast in shadow from turning south, closing on her destination. Sitting within a small cleared space, with a wrought iron gate and fence was the Alden House, out of place among the small shops and ramshackle houses that rose up on either side and around this part of Scarborough. Passing through the iron portal she crossed quickly to the door, and raised a brow at the odd door knocker.

Set in graying silver was a great wolf's head, in its teeth a horseshoe that one used to knock. Taking hold of the black iron fitting, she rapped three times and was shortly shown to the sitting room by a polite elf in the livery of a wealthy home.

The old man watched as she entered, from the shadows of the side foyer. She walked quietly, her balance on the balls of her feet and with a light step, which matched her slight frame. A fine face, wide at the cheek and narrow at the chin was highlighted by her striking eyes, a nearly luminous gold. Crowning it all was her fall of hair, a silver-gray that seemed to catch light and let it fall along it's length, past her shoulders. It was her bearing, more than her appearance that gave away his guest, though. Deciding to spy no longer, lest he be found out, the man started forward, leaning on the rail.

"You must be Sieglinde Wagner, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," a rich voice called out, and the young woman turned and rose, curtsying slightly in the direction it came. Out of the archway the man finally did come, leaning heavily on a cane and looking as old as the house he lived in. "Forgive me, but the years grow long, and my stamina short. My name is Leon. Welcome to my home."

Sieglinde moved to the man's side, helping him the last few feet to a tall backed chair. "Thank you, my dear. Very kind of you." Straitening himself as the young woman took her seat again, the aged and graying man looked her over with a very keen eye. "So. You're here to attend Salem, then?"

She met his rheumy, deep brown eyes and nodded once, reaching into a pocket to pull forth the packet of parchment and documents she'd come with. "Yes, but only as a formality. I am to observe and take note of how New England treats our kind personally, and to gauge the wind as far as the pretender Fenrir is concerned." Laying out the still closed packet, she stood again and moved to the tea set, busying herself as Leon smiled on, watching.

"So the Sköll has taken offense to him as well," Leon replied, nodding his understanding. "How is your father these days? I haven't seen Ulfric for nearly two hundred years."

Chuckling quietly, Sieglinde shook her head as she poured a cup for the old man, "He abides. Peace does not suit him, and this latest Dark Lord and his war have his interest. The Pretender also has his eye." Settling the saucer before the master of the house, she sat again and folded her hands neatly. "And you, Elder Alden? How fare you in the waning of your moon?"

"As well as any old wolf, youngling," he answered, smiling over his tea. "Better with one so young of night about these dimming walls. Will you be calling this place home for your stay, or will you bed down with the wizards in their dormitories?"

At this Sieglinde took up the packet and broke the seal, pulling forth a form she had there, "I should be staying in their dormitories, but there will be problems. The Change of course one, but as my blood is close to the moon, there will be other... complications. I must also attend under an alias."

"Yes of course," he murmured, but paused to sniff the air. "Dear girl, why do you stink of Wolfsbane?"

Wrinkling her nose, Sieglinde pulled out the parcel she was left in the inn. "This, Elder. I believe the doctor who saw to me, weak from that great distance Apparating, knew me or that I was a Werewolf."

Leon reached out and prodded the package, grinning to the girl, "Ah yes, Wilhem. He is in my employ as well, I believe he must have guessed who you were and arranged this for you." Picking up the small package, he opened it with ginger motions and turned away at the stronger smell within. "Ghastly stuff, but it will dull your instinct enough to settle within the College without difficulty."

"What is it, precisely?" The young woman took the package back, inspecting the small foil-wrapped wafer-sticks within their black labels.

"If I'm not mistaken, it's Wolfsbane gum, a kind of if at any rate."

"Poison?" Sieglinde furrowed her brow, a corner of her lip rising to show a view of uncharacteristically sharp teeth. "He would dare?"

"No child, not poison." Chuckling, the old man clapped and a house elf appeared, bowing low. "Lunch, if you please. Do you wish for anything in particular, dear?"

"No, Sire. I am rather hungry though." As if to punctuate the statement, her stomach growled loudly, eliciting a laugh from the old man as she blushed crimson.

"Yes, I can see. Or hear, rather," he said, still laughing at her embarrassment. "Do you prefer your food cooked or not? I forget how the Sköll and his court dine these long years away."

Nodding and looking wistfully at the small elf, which made the slight thing shiver in fright, she shook off her musing and answered, "Father never has food cooked, unless he is entertaining future meals, as he calls his political meetings." Sharing a knowing laugh with Leon, she grinned and licked her lips. "It will be good to dine as I'm used to, the food as I traveled was dreadfully burnt and spiced almost out of recognition."

Snorting, the man nodded and dismissed the elf, who hurried snapped a finger and went to it's task and away from the hungry gaze the young woman was leveling on it, "Yes, leave it to humans to alter even their food beyond all resemblance of it's source." Pointing at the gum she still held, he nodded to it seriously, "this will keep you from any unconscious change. You won't need to worry on it, but the true Change will still take you as it does us all." Running a piercing gaze about her, he frowned. "I doubt any potion would dull your Change at any rate, as close as your family's blood is to the moon."

"I would not take one, on those days," she murmured, shaking her head slowly. "It is... blasphemous." Shaking her head slightly, her face very serious she murmured, "I am not ashamed of what I was born into. Who and what I am."

"Easy, easy youngling. I meant no disrespect, or to cast any idea on you." Shifting in the great chair, he grunted and a pained look crossed his face. "I was merely thinking aloud, on how best to help you in your task. No doubt if you go as you are, with your name and face someone will make the connection." Raising a brow, the old man considered her words a moment. "Days you say?"

"Yes, Sire. I enjoy the moon's favor all three days of her dominance."

Openly staring now, Leon closed his mouth with a faint snap. "Three days... well I wasn't wrong in thinking you'd need that little trick Wilhem cooked up. Curious... You've bitten someone before, yes?" Looking away, she nodded once and seemed to color slightly. "As a wolf or in a human guise?"

Sighing, she considered the question a moment. "I was as I am now."

"Did they turn?"

"No. Father put him down," she murmured quietly, looking pained. "But he would have. You could smell the Change on him."

Shaking his head slowly, Leon settled more comfortably in his chair. "Close to the moon indeed. Well, I shall not pursue that topic again. It does seem to bother you, young one."

Relief plain on her features, she bowed her head slightly, "Thank you, Sire."

Waving off her words, the old man looked at the papers she'd spread out on the table. "On to lighter tasks. You did mention an alias, but with your hair and eyes I think we need to go a step further."

"My father likes my eyes," she replied stubbornly, getting a laugh from the elder.

"No doubt, I think them rather nice as well. But they do stick in one's memory, and though our eyes tend to amber in the change, yours may cause a stir." Contemplating, the old man rose and winced, leaning on his cane as he moved to the adjoining room. "Come, let us work a while, on who your father's daughter shall become."

An hour later, a few copied spells in hand from a book that Leon had pulled from his library, and instead of Sieglinde Wagner joining him for a late brunch, Lind Jaeger sat across from him at the great table. "I still don't see why I have to be blonde. I am pleased with the name, though. It's familiar enough so I shouldn't miss it being called."

Tutting, the man shook his fork at the young woman, "Because, like it or not, that silver hair of yours will not go unnoticed. Simply not a normal wizarding color." He smiled as the house elf appeared, one small and one great platter set out on it's hovering trays. "Lind did seem best of what we could make of your given name. You simply don't appear a Linda, and it will work with that accent of yours. As for your family name, though there are many Wagners in the States, there's no sense tempting fate. A hunter you are, so a hunter you shall be – in your own tongue at least." Watching her intently, as the house elf arranged his plate, his brown eyes twinkled, "The time you've spent in the Sköll's court has been among our own kind, yes?"

Nodding silently, she glanced eagerly to the tray the house elf had levitated out, setting it at the great table with a groan to it's oak slats. "Yes, I've been about humans very little. Father's reputation and the area's politics do not allow much mingling."

Leon watched as the young Werewolf tore into the bulky joint of venison, nearly a quarter of an animal. Quirking a lip at his nervous house elf, the elder cut small portions from his own serving, "We will need to spend some time getting you accustomed to what they shall expect then. You'll find differences, small or large tend to ignite very unexpected feelings in wizards and humans alike."

-

* * *

-

The month between Lind's arrival in Salem and the start of the College's school year seemed to go by too quickly. With the help of Leon, she acclimated to life in Salem without much difficulty, though odd habits and quirks of her long time being around only other Werewolves still showed. During the few weeks until Salem's dormitories opened, she spent her days in Alden House, learning about the Fair and it's unique personality.

There was a stark different between the town within a town and that of her keep back in Büren, where her father held court. Lind had never been around so many wizards before, at least ones that were not of her own people. Markets of various things abounded, in various small differences and alterations. She found the array of so many kinds of a single thing bewildering. Also daunting was the sheer number of people living in the residential block, that she'd seen her first day. The initial impression she had of the number living there was far off the reality, as magical space was well utilized inside the homes, increasing their interior space immensely.

It was obvious why the Fair was as large, varied and populated with not only resident traffic but also visiting wizards. The United States in muggle terms was one country, but within it's magical community regions existed with quasi-national borders, more a sense of location identity than anything else. Lind felt it much like a single family, spacing it's relatives and in-laws about within a hereditary portion of land. Each family "ruled" themselves, but was part of one larger group. In America the divisions followed in many ways the language tendencies, but also a history of settlement. The colonial areas still considered themselves a single group, and in time that division had become New England. To the south and stretching to the Gulf, then from the Mississippi river to the Atlantic sprawled the Southern States. To the west of the river, stretching from the Canadian border to Mexico rolled the Midwest Reach. Bordered by the Rockies and stretching to the ocean that gave it its name, lay the Pacific Watch, more commonly called simply The Watch. Situated in the muggle Capitol, were the Offices of Unified Intent which coordinated the regions as far as dealing with and working around muggle laws and situations. Little more than a law office that passed on and transported documents and notices between the regions, most barely gave it thought until they traveled across borders and had their brooms inspected.

All this Lind learned from a pamphlet, sitting outside the Senate offices on a rack promoting knowledge for wizards about their leadership. She felt it funny that New Englanders needed pamphlets to explain their leaders to them. Things in the Americas were handled so much differently than what she was used to.

Of the two active heads of the Werewolf clans, her father as Sköll was responsible for the political and physical wellbeing of his people. Less elected than a defacto tyrant in all truth, one gained the position by keeping it. War, feud, intrigue and challenge all factored into a Sköll's lifespan. Her father, Ulfric Wagner, had taken the title from his uncle by starving the man to madness within his own keep and subsuming his armies into his own, taking each by a different tactic. He practiced war and politics like some made art or music, and for that reason she had led the early life of a cloistered heir – kept separate and taught by tutor rather than by experience.

The Sköll was not a position held long, in most cases, so in that her father had held it for nearly one hundred and fifty years was highly unusual. That Ulfric had lived that long as he had was as well, regardless of his title. That long life had given her people a great sense of stability, where almost by nature they were prone to fits and rages that could crumble political alliances and power structures.

Second was the Hati, a woman most often, was the spiritual leader and in times past often the mate of the Sköll. Currently, the bearer of that title resided in France, working closely with a wizarding school there to increase the clan's influence and to open up new avenues for having schooling offered openly. Though almost all Werewolves were of wizarding stock, few that were born so were able to live normal lives outside the Change. School and learning were difficult, when society considered you mindless, cannibal beasts.

Not that some of her clan wasn't. Like muggles and wizards, there were those that did not fit in with the general cast of the majority. Those that broke from the pack and went their own way, often resulting in some stain upon their collective face for it.

This reminded her of the purpose of her visit, and she paused, walking behind the Senate to Salem Academy's administrative office. A few wizards passed by, unconcerned by the low growl she caught herself voicing.

Fenrir was a title, like the others, given or taken by one who proved themselves a leader. In this case the mantle of Elder Wolf fell to one who unified the ideas of the others, strengthening them and bridging that gap between body and spirit. The Fenrir stood at a pinnacle of their people, a figurehead and representative of all things Wolven, to the rest of the world. Unlike the Sköll or Hati, this title wasn't always possessed. Often, none were worthy to be regarded Fenrir. Even her father had denied some of his opponent's claims that he aimed to take the mantle, knowing full well his savage heart and brutal methods were not the face her people needed.

Yet, in Britain there was one, some unknown upstart claiming the name as if a common thing, and rousing a rag-tag army of the bitten under his tactless banner. Not only did he carry the crime of willingly going out in his Change to turn the young, but he also allied himself with some Dark wizard, further staining her people's name and reputation.

What had begun as a bothersome thorn in her father's side had become a full threat. If Grayback wasn't stopped, his influence stalled and reversed soon then the Wolven would be again hunted by wizards and muggle alike. The few of the Sköll and Hati's agents in Britain already told grim tales of that country's Ministry, and how it was now regarding Werewolves as less than human, less than beasts even by some accounts. Only to those far from her people and it's heritage would flock to such a Pretender, not knowing of any other way. Unprepared and unwilling, Lind had been sent to Salem to listen and watch, to discover how far the damage Grayback was doing had spread.

Sighing, Lind shook off her anger and pulled out a stick of the gum, chewing the vile thing. It numbed her mouth, to the point she had difficulty talking, but it kept small things at bay. She was far too close to the moon, far too pure of blood to pass long in the middle of wizards as one of them. Finally clear of the Senate's huge shadow, she found herself at the foot of the Academy's office steps. The building was fairly busy today, so close to the start of term but she didn't feel crowded, as like the Senate, the Salem Academy's public offices were rather large.

The great entranceway seemed a cross section of an old sailing ship, the keystone and surrounding arch done in brown stone and sweeping up to a point high above. Doors to fit the thing seemed absent, but she assumed were present, somewhere. Beyond the steps and the massive gate, the lobby seemed light and well lit, with a great sweep of desks reminding her less of a reception area so much as a bank. Beside each, a small iron gate sat closed, the framework for all the gates going from floor to ceiling above, dividing the public from the workings of the Academy behind, if one did not have approved business.

Lind moved inside the great entranceway and settled to the side, observing a moment. Unfamiliar with Salem's school, she had also made the mistake of not reading on the entrance and enrollment specifics for the place. As she had been schooled since her youth, whatever Salem had to offer she was sure wouldn't be useful to her, so the young Werewolf had paid it little thought. Now though, faced with this room, she regretted that oversight. Registration would be going on for two more weeks, and she had time to go back to elder Leon to get assistance, but she was already here, and decided to at least observe a moment to familiarize herself.

Witches and wizards, either alone or accompanied by a family member queued up in the lines leading to the dozen or so desks, each one the size of a small dining room table. Chairs were arranged for three, so she assumed large groups took turns speaking with the proctors there.

As she watched, a family of two stepped forward, a young man with ash blonde hair and a woman who she figured was far too young to be his mother. Older sister, she reasoned, watching the two, though she could not pinpoint a resemblance. A short conversation and a form was produced, which the two looked over and commented on, at which point the young man took a quill and selected some options, picking between some books the proctor produced and a list he he seemed to have with him. Her eyes weren't keen enough to see, but she cast a charm and spied the list he'd checked among the options, figuring it best to pick classes someone that was there to learn had, as opposed to just guessing on her own.

Surprisingly, the list seemed interesting and rather in depth to her. Lind had not expected the classes offered to be very practical, considering the wizards she'd seen or worked with in her time, yet here was a list, solidly conducted.

CD-824a: Advanced Defense Practice and Theory; practical required (Approval required)  
CD-824b: Defense Practical (820)  
L-105: Magical Transport Licensing Course (Age restriction, 16 at time of course)  
H-443: Ancient History of Magic IV  
CP-501a: Alchemical Potions I Lecture; practical lab required (Approval required; prerequisite Transmutation and Potions classes required)  
CP-501b: Alchemical Potions I Lab (500)  
R-410: Runes of Ancient Europe (Linguistics level 4 class)  
CT-520c: Complex Concepts in Transfiguration (Age restriction, 16 at time of course, Double-length class, includes practical)  
CC-601c: Advanced Charm Lecture with Practical (Double-length class, includes practical)  
EA-120: Artifice and Crafting (Elective credit, special fee course)

Lind was thinking over the eight class spread when the proctor behind the desk made a move to file it, at which she quickly cast a memory charm on herself, letting her remember the list as she'd read it for half an hour or so. She watched as the two made their way beyond, passing through the briefly opened gate beside the desk and fading from view quickly. Deciding to try her luck with the young man's classes, she queued up behind a noisome family of three – a father and two daughters – and waited for it to be her turn.

While she waited, she looked over the atrium, taking in the sights. Apparently the iron gating that separated the atrium's public area from the space behind wasn't always down, or perhaps was often in a different form. It would figure, Lind had to admit, that this configuration of desks and gates was not the common fashion in which the Academy's office looked.

Fifteen minutes of bored inspection later, and it was her turn at the desk. Sitting with little preamble, she waited for the proctor, a young man who seemed to enjoy his work, to begin.

"Welcome to Salem Academy's registration fair, have you sent in a response or request for attendance yet?" Businesslike, the young man wasted little time on pleasantries. She immediately liked this particular wizard more for it.

Nodding, she replied in a matching tone, "Yes, my paperwork was sent in two weeks ago."

Smiling faintly, a courtesy gesture, the proctor pulled what looked like a silver-bound scroll, unfurling a length from it's catch. "Name registered under?"

"Lind Jaeger," she replied, now used to answering so.

Tapping the scroll with his wand, the man peered over the print that appeared and placed a blank sheet atop it, which mirrored the print on the scroll with a tap. "Everything so far is in order, Miss Jaeger. Now, have you given any thought to the classes you'd like to register for?"

Nodding, she indicated for a quill and form, and proceeded to use the enchanted sheet to pick her classes. Print rearranged and squirmed about as she ran her finger along topics, detailing each to her. The form seemed to know her apparent, and sometimes false, history and didn't allow some things, while causing others to shimmer, in recommendation.

She found half of the classes she'd memorized in spying were recommended, one unavailable, and the rest Lind was able to sign up for with little issue. The proctor had told her why she wasn't able to take the defense class she'd asked for, describing how it was a class for those one year above her, and had to be directly tested for or recommended by one of the Academy deans.

All in all, she felt very accomplished, for such a spur of the moment decision. Taking her roster of classes in hand, Lind left to speak with Elder Alden about any other surprises she may encounter, as well as where best to begin her inquiry, once the cover of the school year began.

-

* * *

-

Looking around the street, what was called the West Way according to the sign nearby, Harry regarded the rather crowded but neat rows of housing with an appreciative eye. "Vorgann said that the local branch had a good listing and a reputable agent in Salem. Said it was a rather good deal for the property, and that he'd let me know of any details that need working out."

His companions were sharing the young man's appreciation of the homes, but were eager to rest, after so long a trip. "Which one is ours, then? I'd love to relax some, after all this." Tonks tried to keep the weariness from her voice, but the long ride, stress of the airport, and the restless nature of their prior week were telling on her. Though she was as impressed as Harry or Remus with the town, she needed a break. Sooner, as opposed to later, she hoped.

"Oh, right," Harry replied, checking his parchment quickly. "25b, Maple. This way," pointing to their left, Harry lead at a brisk pace, checking the house numbers and streets to make sure they didn't miss their goal.

Remus stopped and turned, pointing to a small row they'd overlooked. "This one, over here."

Backtracking, the trio found that their street was actually a small circle, and the number they were given just within the track there. "25b," Lupin stated, as they walked up the small, well-tended stair to the door. Rapping on it gently, he was immediately faced with a tiny, very well dressed house elf, even for their kind.

"Welcome. Which of you is Mr. Black?"

Stepping forward, Harry nodded to the diminutive creature. "That is me."

Looking pensive, the tiny elf seemed pained at the effort to ask it's next question. "Begging your pardon, but the agent in charge of the property requires proof of identification, if you please."

Raising a brow, Harry shared an amused look with Tonks. One, for the actual logic behind the question, considering they were known to be traveling under false identification by the agent himself, and also that the house elf would be so... normal in speech. "Not a problem," he stated, handing the small elf his passport. "Was the agent expecting us?"

"No sir, I'm just the caretaker for the property." Handing Harry back his papers, the elf moved aside quickly, looking much less apprehensive. "Please, come inside."

Filing in, Tonks was the first to note that the building seemed to be liberal in it's use of wizarding space. The interior foyer could have given Grimmauld competition for floorspace. Though the flat was only two story, as opposed to Grimmauld's many, the place had a much more pleasant atmosphere, though that may be in part due to the lack of creepy furniture, snakes on anything that could be carved or adorned, and shrunken house elf heads on plaques.

Clean, spacious and unadorned, Harry immediately started feeling at home in the place. Though he liked the lived-in feel of the dormitory flat back in London, this place could be his own. He could decorate, or not, to his wishes. Looking up the modest stairwell, Harry could vague see the hall and that led to the rooms above, as well as other windows. Windows that actually looked out onto the Green, and also the street outside, he noted with a smile. "It's wonderful. Oh, forgive me, what was your name?"

Tilting it's head, the small elf produced a card, of all the curious things. "I am Oswald, Mr. Black. Would you be needing my services to continue, or should I contact the agency to have other arrangement's made?"

Harry took the card with a confused glance to Tonks, and read it briefly, his eyes going wide, and a smile creeping up on his lips. "Oh I have to mail Hermione about this," he murmured, catching Tonks' eye and motioning her over with a tilt of his head.

Joining him as Remus shuffled about, looking over the property and seeming to size up the place, Tonks read the card over Harry's shoulder and realized she'd dropped her purse in shock. "Oh, excuse me," she murmured, so unused to the idea the card presented it overcame her briefly. Having dealt with elves in Britain an Europe so long, there was a certain assumption she'd made, that they all acted the same, everywhere. Oswald was proving that untrue in a rather obvious way.

Reading the card to himself, Harry smiled.

_Oswald Copperpot  
Personal assistant and butler_

_For rates, contact:  
Boston Personnel Services, ltd._

Flipping the card over, Harry was amused to see a picture of a rather well dressed house elf, obviously Oswald, bowing politely to the observer. "Well Oswald, I have a house elf in my employ, though he's abroad. There would be no breach of service if we were to, ah... contact your solicitor, then?"

Shaking his head, Oswald smiled slightly. "The property agent said you may not be familiar with elf rights here, so if you'll excuse my earlier anxiety. No, there will be no conflict, were you to hire me on, Mr. Black."

Nodding happy, Harry pocketed the card and turned to his friends. "Well think about it, but thank you very much for your help Oswald. We'll be settling in now I think."

Needing no other dismissal, the small elf simply bowed once, and very discreetly snapped his fingers, fading from view. To the still bemused company he'd brought with him, Harry simply smiled. "Curiouser and curiouser. And we've yet to actually see Salem Academy yet."

"And we won't today," dropping her luggage with a sigh, Tonks found a convenient chair to claim. "I've a bath and a solid, immobile eight hours first, then we can go manage that." Remus seemed of a similar mind, as he was already quite asleep, snoring on the couch. "Guess the landing ramp was a bit more than he could handle," she quipped, as Harry joined her in laughing at their harried friend.

-

* * *

-

AN: Few initial notes.

Fall is a continuation of Key to Summer. As such, it may not make a ton of sense if you've not read that. Though I made some effort to make it as independent as possible, you may need to skim Key to get an idea, if you've not read it. I may update the Preface to reflect an abbreviated synopsis of Key. THIS IS NOW DONE.

The main characters listed in the story options are there for a reason. In Key, the groundwork was laid out. Here, we will see continuation. It will not become a (geometric shape).

Lind is **not** going to: Turn Harry, be a side of a love (geometric shape) or take over the story. She has her own place, much as the Girl in Gray does. Lind **is**: A good secondary character to open up Salem to people with, begin the arc with Grayback, and offer a drastically different view on wizards, outside of the Muggle perspective. I like Lind. I hope you do too.

Remus' love life is not something I will focus on. Don't expect me to.

Britain is not forgotten. There will be interludes there, as well as interaction.

There is a map of Salem, I will upload it soon.

The house elf situation will be explained soon. Logic should explain it somewhat, if you squint, and think about the location.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Harry Potter in, Fall of Innocence**_

**Chapter Two.**

_The ways of God and government and girls are all mysterious, and it is not given to mortal man to understand them._  
–Lazarus Long, _Time Enough for Love_ by Robert A. Heinlein

It was late the next morning before the three displaced Brits managed to drag themselves back to the world of the living. Remus seemed the most resilient of the three, but Harry just blamed Werewolf stamina and a less stressful prior week. Refreshed and ready to explore the new city, Harry picked out a set of clothing that seemed to fit in with the styles around Salem, and went to see if anyone would be joining him.

Though the flat had a kitchen, Harry hadn't bothered to check if it also came with food. The smells that greeted him as he came down the steps seemed to indicate the answer to that at least was a yes. On his way to the main floor, Harry paused and looked about him, comparing the place again to Grimmauld, and then the house on Privet. Smiling, he was unable to draw more than glancing parallels to either.

Waiting on his two traveling companions, Remus tended the small supply of breakfast and sipped his tea, critical of the American variety available. Seeing Harry wandering around in the main foyer, the Werewolf called to him, beckoning him over. "Recovering from the flight well enough?"

Looking out the windows and comparing what he was seeing, in the sun's position to his own instincts, the young wizard furrowed his brow. "I suppose. May take a while to get used to the time difference."

"Likely so." Setting his tea aside, the older man seemed to stare out unseeing, through those same windows. "It's a complicated place. Possibly more so than England and Europe. You'd do well to keep an open mind here," shaking himself from the reverie, Lupin turned an apologetic smile to Harry. "Sorry, just thinking on my own task and how different things are here."

Harry nodded but his curiosity was now piqued. "How so? Different I mean."

"Tonks and I had thought to go over this with you together, so we could make sure nothing was missed, but I suppose I can begin now," taking another drink of the lackluster tea, the Werewolf pulled a small journal from his coat and sat it down on the table. "I made some notations during a research session, this would help with the more complex issues. Think of it much like a travel guide. For the brief version, though...

"The first order of business is to get yourself familiar with the area, and locate the nearest ah, Senate, I think they are called here. Those are like the Ministry back home. Local offices which govern an area. Next we'll need to get your wand signature recorded and registered." Looking over Harry's clothes, he nodded appreciably. "We can do that this afternoon."

Sitting up straighter, Harry considered that point and shook his head slowly. "Could we go sooner? And what are the penalties for having an non-registered wand here?"

Eyeing his best friend's son carefully a moment, Lupin dropped his gaze to the food on his plate. "I'm not sure I understand, Harry. I only remember you having one wand. Was there another?"

"No, of course not."

Smiling ever so slightly, Remus took a very deliberate bite of his food. "Then why worry on it? We go in the afternoon, because I know your penchant for trouble, and the only real way I can see to diffuse that is to make sure you're prepared," the man said, as if talking about the weather and taking an umbrella.

"Humph," Harry replied, eloquently.

Conversation continued, as Lupin pointed out the various things that were different, and that needed to be done. First among them of course was his wand registry. Much like the offices in the Ministry for misuse of magic, the US had restrictions on all wands, and required citizens and visitors to make their wand's signatures available. This was mainly a method to prevent crime, as a signature could be obtained from a crime scene, and matched to the registry, much as Harry remembered the method from the telly, of firearm ballistics.

Other needs were also voiced, but seemed less critical. Harry and Lupin agreed that Oswald would be an ideal choice, not only for the sake of familiarity with the home and area, but also as a source of information. Apparently, there were strong differences between house elf relations here and back in Britain. Gringott's branches were handled differently, and would take some time, and likely shows of trust in a monetary inclination, to smooth down any arising issues.

Salem was a large priority, and Lupin slid a fall class schedule for Harry to peruse. "I've marked some classes that according to the international equivalences that you're ready and prepared for."

Somewhat abashed, Harry took the list with thanks. "I'd not really thought about that. I'm really grateful you looked into it."

Chuckling, Remus tilted his head as if hearing something. "Let me warm this up a bit, while we talk." Rising, the Werewolf attended the meal left warming on the stove or plates, and passed Harry some as well. "When Tonks mentioned the plan and asked for my help, I knew why she'd approached me. Dumbledore... in his time with the Order, had some long ideals." Smiling back at Harry, the man shook his head slowly. "To get in touch with the Werewolf clans in Europe, he had me brush up on education law and principles of magical education. Schools always need teachers. You could say that your third year was a test run."

Regarding the man with confusion, Harry ruminated over his food. "So, Tonks knew this?"

"Which is partly why I'm here. The other half is, admittedly, a personal issue." Glancing over Harry's shoulder, Lupin hefted a steaming plate of eggs and bacon. "Good morning, Tonks. Sleep well?"

Grumbling, the metamorph just made a wobbling bee-line for the table. "Sod off, morning people," slumping into a chair, she hid a yawn behind her hand. "Sorry, just still sleepy. Thank you," she replied, after taking the plate from Lupin's hand. Eating slowly till her tea kicked in, the woman looked up at the amused expression of the others, and frowned. "What?"

Hiding his grin with the teacup, Harry shrugged, "Just amused at how you handle jet lag. Can't say I'm much better. Just too excited to be anything else."

Mumbling her answer, the witch just tucked into her meal, as Harry and Remus chatted about classes and Salem. After a small lull in the conversation, she reentered. "You started discussing what needed to be done, now that we're here?"

Remus nodded, looking up from the planner briefly. "Part of it, yes. Didn't touch on cover stories, or culture."

Shaking the cobwebs loose, Tonks nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright Harry, there are a few things about our cover stories we need to go over, just to tighten things up a bit." Taking a bite of her toast, she pulled out the passports of the three and opened them. "Lupin, your personal business makes it less important for you to be tied up with us, so we'll not worry on that much. Go with something normal. Adventuring at length, wanting to see the sights, try some new things," smirking a bit, she hid her face behind a cup. "Maybe sample the wildlife."

Snorting, Lupin merely shook his head. "I'll be fine. 'Andy' will likely be a capricious, middle-aged man with a mind for dangerous hobbies. It would be a good screen for my long absences, and the locations I need to visit."

"Speaking of those things, what are you here for, Remus?" Not the first time she'd inquired, Tonks still didn't expect an answer, so was surprised to see the man thinking about the question intently. "If you can tell us," she prompted quietly, encouraging the man with a smile.

Looking pensive, the Werewolf considered his hands. "To be honest, I've heard of other clans here in the states. Remnants of the pre-Colonies, and others that sought out a larger range, or solitude in the great expanse of the west. Those that aren't loyal to any side. I was hoping to gather some information, maybe make contact."

Chuckling, he shook his head, "For all I am a man, human, all but a day a month, the instincts and changes in me are deep rooted. We are a pack people, Werewolves. Since the Ministry's mandates about lycanthropes, classifying us as little more than beasts, most of England's population fled or were driven further to ground. It is... difficult." Pausing, Remus looked away, clearly uncomfortable. "Since my youth I've relied on others, relied on the small kindnesses of Dumbledore and the Order to maintain me, where I could not. The packs often do these things. I've been so long feeling that emptiness, and I want it banished," he finished hotly, face coloring as he did so.

Tonks nodded, feeling ashamed at dragging the issues out so, and clearly unhappy with how it was affecting the man. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. It's Grayback isn't it? He's made it hard for any decent Werewolves to get a fair go at living."

Nodding briefly, the older wizard stood, painting an insincere smile on his face. "Partially, yes. Grayback has made it his life to subvert the populations there, turn them to his own cause. Like Tom, he's a fanatic, but for him it's the hunt and kill, not power." Shrugging, Lupin settled some loose groceries away, and cleaned, keeping his hands busy while his mouth worked. "I suppose that gives him power too. Like Voldemort, his name inspires fear. He's using that influence, and thinks it possible to gain allies from the continent as well. I never got the chance to travel there, but with his eyes on it, I worry if my history with him would only cause more problems." Moving so his back was to the younger pair at the table, Lupin busied himself with domestic things. "I'm also terribly tired of dealing with this alone. Relying on Snape and his potions, and Dumbledore's barbed hospitality.

"Oh, don't get me wrong," he said quickly, turning to face his friends. "I'm not dissatisfied with your company, not at all, or the thought to include me in this. I just feel... the need to put the past behind me. Let go of the guilt, and the anger." Smiling sadly, apologetically at Harry, the Werewolf laid a hand on the young man's shoulder. "I loved your parents as if they were my own blood Harry. But I need to get back to living. They showed me kindness beyond what I expected, and it hurt having it taken away, in all the ways it happened." Looking distant a moment, Remus let a single small chuckle escape him. "You are much like your father. But also much different. I think it is that difference that makes you great, Harry."

With that, Lupin moved quickly up the stairs, leaving a somewhat dumbstruck Harry and Tonks in his wake. Harry considered what he knew of Lupin and sighed. "I think... he still hurts from when James and Lily didn't trust him to be their secret keeper," nodding slowly at his reasoning, Harry listlessly shifted things on his plate. "He blames them, and himself for what happened."

"Sirius could have done them a great service if he'd only known about how the bloodlaw worked," Tonks grumbled, but shook the dark mood off with a deep breath. "C'mon. We have things to go over. We'll set out some small inquiries and help Lupin where we can, and where he'll allow." Taking up her own passport, Tonks ran a finger along the information there. "Now, for Natalie Thompson. Since we'll both be doing most of the public talking, and appearing together, it'll be important not to trip up on each other's identities. When I was an Auror, we had special training when it came to dealing with infiltrating locations under cover. Some of that was self-charming, and memory work. It helps to believe you are your story, but not too deep. Don't want to forget yourself."

As she spoke, Tonks pulled her compact Pensieve out again. "I set up my cover memories last night with some charms, and set up a ritual to duplicate them." Opening the small black thing, she was greeted with the two distinct strands of memory sitting there, shimmering. "Take one and keep it, that will help with getting my info straight when it comes up. Tonight, I'll teach you the basics on how to do this as well."

Curious, Harry nodded and looked to the small loop of memory there, left alone as Tonks reclaimed it's twin. Taking his wand, he focused and the memory adhered to the tip, and he sat back to ride out the sensation of having foreign thoughts in his mind.

Constructed memories weren't as reliable as true ones, for teaching and showing things that happen, but it was a basis behind Occlumency as he was growing to understand it. Shielding one's mind from attack required both passive and active elements, and the most reliable active ones were false trails, diversions and implanted falsehoods that could trap or fool an attacker. When Harry closed his eyes to absorb that memory, the sensation of slight wrongness he'd experienced with Narcissa while practicing the bloodlaw shielding returned.

It was like probing an Occlumency shield, and getting lead off track, he thought, watching the somewhat hazy, jerky memories play back. Brief, uninventive snippets gave him basic information. Tonks' voice showing images of places and street corners, saying 'home', or 'school' and then a collage of unimportant but essential facts for maintaining a cover, playing in fast motion. He knew Natalie had a small scar on her forearm, was only twenty years old, single and looking. She was blonde, had straight hair, and to Harry's surprise, had a crush on her companion, Joseph. He saw altered replica's of his parents asking her to accompany him, having known him for years. Also there was a fabricated aside where he mother asked Natalie to be good, and not corrupt her son... too much. This talk apparently occurred at the same time one for Joseph and his father happened.

Feeling mildly confused and flattered, and a myriad of other hard to place emotions, Harry continued through memories. Scenes of her parents, of school and 'Andy', a recent friend. She'd purposefully left his recollections blank, and Harry thought that peculiar. Natalie also liked popular rock, though it was more the independent rather than trendy variety, was licensed to substitute teach, had all her permits, and was looking for work in the US, while Joseph attended Salem.

Opening his eyes, Harry immediately took a long drink of his water. "That was... a lot of detail and information. Are you sure I can learn that?"

Nodding, Tonks looked a bit weary as she focused on the room again, rising from her own recollections. She also had a slight blush, knowing Harry would have seen her less than subtle hint. "We can build it up over time, but some basic collaborating memories we can work on tonight. This will also help with your real Occlumency skills, rather than the bloodlaw ones. Though those seem fairly good, you're very far away from the things that tie you to that magic, and I'd feel wary relying on it."

Paling, Harry nodded. He'd not considered that the distance from those empowering places, the ones tied to his family by oaths and long-steeped magic, could effectively set him back to square one when it came to his mental defenses. "I was wondering though," he began quietly, "why it was you didn't spend a lot of time on memories of Lupin."

"Easy one there," she replied, smiling slightly. "I'm establishing you as his most active contact, as that is basically true. I've had a lot of time working with him, in the Order, but professionally. You've actually known him as a person longer."

"So I need to work on those memories."

Nodding, Tonks was happy he understood so quickly. "That's going to be one of the things we'll work on. It would be good for you to practice that, and building a solid recollection of his history, one that would fit with reality well enough. It would be good practice."

Rubbing at his temple, Harry nodded. "I suppose so. Why couldn't Snape be reasonable about this?" Grumbling, the memories of the unpleasant Potions professor overwhelmed his recent stock of new memories. "Tonks... what do you think will happen with the Order?"

Wincing, the witch sat her fork down and spared Harry a reassuring glance. "It's hard to say. Without Dumbledore guiding them, and with what we've learned recently..." pausing, Tonks shook her head. "I don't see it going very far, now. One of the biggest edges the Order had was Snape," holding up a hand, she stalled Harry's sharp retort. "Let me finish.

"Insufferable as he was, Snape was an inside man to Voldemort. This gave the Order a sense of superiority and also tactical advantage." Standing, she collected their plates, food ignored and cold after some time. "Now, it's painfully obvious that we've been led along this entire time. Voldemort knew Snape's position with Albus and the Order. With the common knowledge, false as we know it now, that Voldemort feared Dumbledore, he positioned Snape with the security that if one of his Lords went too far afield, he'd have one to fall back on.

"Snape was likely only led along so as to feed us false information, and supply a real advantage to Voldemort."

Harry leaned back in his chair, rubbing his palms against closed eyes. "So, all this time Albus has been using Snape, it's been Voldemort calling the shots?"

Tonks nodded sadly. "The only decisive work we've accomplished was though your little club in the Ministry. The Order has been at best, a source of information, not firepower, and now it's painfully obvious even that is suspect. Merlin, they barely have any fighters," she spat, collecting herself shortly.

"What about Moody? And Shacklebolt?"

"An Aurors isn't a match for a Death Eater, with no qualms for killing. True, Moody could hold his own, and Shack is competent, but they are only two." Pausing a moment, she seemed to collect her thoughts, "Let me tell you about what happened after the war. After Crouch Sr.'s stint at the Ministry, there was a general outcry against violence. Those fighters from the war were either conscripted into the Aurors, or given stern orders to keep themselves out of trouble," Tonks replied quietly. "The Aurors have been at best a police force used to petty crimes and small squabbles for a decade."

A few pieces of a puzzle snapped together in Harry's mind. "Wait. A decade?" At Nymphadora's nod his frown deepened, and he stood and started pacing. "A decade. So, when that curse rebounded, and everything went back to normal, as it were, the Ministry just stopped?"

Tonks stood and followed Harry as his pacing lead him through the foyer. "You must understand Harry, we lost nearly a third of the our population to Grindelwald and Tom. In fifty years, we lost an entire generation. Reminders of that violence weren't wanted."

Turning sharply, Harry boggled at the young witch. "What? Explain that."

"How many witches or wizards do you see, the age of Lupin?" She asked softly. "Most are either mine or your age, or the next generation after, like McGonagall and on the low side, the Weasleys." Taking his shoulders in hand, she looked into his eyes steadily. "After the war, almost all of your parent's generation was lost. So many went to Voldemort that what decent people were left were either fighters, targets or fled. This wasn't a war of combatant targets. It was civil terrorism."

Nodding woodenly, Harry sat down suddenly on the nearest chair. "So that's why the Order was so... sparse. Why Dumbledore didn't stop me from organizing the DA. There really wasn't anyone else to fight."

Sitting beside the young man, Tonks sighed and nodded. "Our generation is just getting into the world. Charlie, Bill and me... our days at Hogwarts were strange. The war had just ended a few years before I went to school. People were still scared, still reacting." Looking to Harry with a smile, she leaned into his shoulder slightly, "If we had you then, maybe we'd not be in this mess."

Harry just nodded a moment, not really understanding what she meant. Then his thoughts were sidetracked by the now distinct closeness of the witch, as she lightly leaned on him. Swallowing a sudden dryness in his throat, Harry focused on their conversation, to mask his blush. "What do you mean? How would that have mattered?"

Smiling out at the room and it's sparse furnishings, she shrugged before continuing, "It goes back to the reactionaries in the Wizengamot and Crouch again. After his son was sentenced, the orders and mandates he'd issued were made suspect. I guess Voldemort still had loyalists on his side, and they pushed the Ministry and curriculum into a more passive state. We learned more than has been taught recently, but it was still less than useful."

"He's been poisoning our world for decades it seems," bitterness was clear in Harry's voice, as well as anger. It made sense though. The easiest way, Harry figured at least, to win a war was to make sure there was no one on the other side to fight against. Fear was his first tactic, but undermining the opposition's very population seemed as valid.

Harry was drawn out of his thoughts by a question from the witch leaning on him, "Have you thought about your prophecy, or how to beat Voldemort at all, since that night at the library?"

Shaking his head, Harry looked down at Tonks, her own face tilted up slightly from her slouch. Tentatively, he settled his arm around her, and she nestled into him. "I haven't. Things have been so busy, since the reading. Has it only been three weeks?" At the former Auror's nod, he gave a sharp little laugh. "Feels like forever."

"It has been very busy. The wills, finding your birthplace to ensure you can keep out of Dumbledore's reach, then the Wizengamot and your own birthright." Thinking for a moment, Tonks shook her head slowly. "I don't know how you do it."

"What do you mean?"

Grinning up at him, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his lightly, her color rising quick, dusting her cheeks with rose. "Keep your head on straight while managing all this."

Waiting for his heartbeat to steady, Harry controlled his breathing well enough to speak after a handful or moments. "I've had very good help," he managed to say. The early morning light was brighter here than he was accustomed, and it gave the edges of her hair a light halo, keeping him silent longer as his eyes took in the sight. Shaking off his blatant appreciation, he kept a smile regardless, "You've helped me with learning what I needed to keep safe and free, Lupin's helped me when things got dire. Moody's given us more insight into our own people than I've ever had, and between Scrimgeour and Narcissa, I managed not to destroy the Wizengamot with my inexperience." Chuckling quietly, Harry let his smile go more sincere. "I've not done a lot on my own. I guess it's just intent. I want to see things get better, and when an opportunity comes to do so, I take it."

Tonks wanted to tell him that such things were what made heroes, but figured he'd rather not hear such a thing. His modesty was, though refreshing in her experience with purebloods and the attitudes of the common wizard, somewhat irritating at times when anyone else would be gracefully accepting praise. Truthfully she had to admit, with his experience and exposure to their world so limited, being thrown blindly into those situations would have been catastrophic. Not only for him, but the rest of their world as well.

They sat in silence then, taking long needed comfort in closeness and quiet, where so recently all they'd had was the frantic rush of action.

Some small while later, they were standing again with Remus, looking out over the balcony that faced the Green and Salem Village proper. "We have a lot of work to do, before school begins," he commented, gaining Harry's attention.

"How so? Does this have something to do with the classes?" Harry assumed Lupin had picked out what suggestions he'd made based on what the young wizard knew, but thinking back over it, had some questions on those still.

Nodding, Lupin looked out over the view from their perch as well, smiling at the impressive and rather pretty venue provided. The Green was a magnificent work of magic, and he looked forward to learning more about it before his errands took him to other places. "You may have seen two suggestions I made, that were different than what you were used to."

"Three actually," Harry corrected, pointing out a to Tonks in a moment of distraction a flight of birds, shifting about over the lawns. Focus restored in their passing, he looked back to Moony. "Transport licensing I suppose would be like broom and Apparition?"

Lupin shook his head, "Not entirely. We break broom riding and Apparition into different years, based on complexity. Due to the lower density of people in the UK overall, we have little reason to worry on people flying on brooms or such, at early ages." Gesturing out at the Green, Lupin then pointed up. "You won't see people flying out here, because of those rules. The States have a very restrictive set of rules on where and who can fly."

Grimacing, Harry sighed and was already mourning his Firebolt, when Remus continued. "Don't loose hope, cub. Most of their restrictions are based on ability, not a blanket of denial. With your flying skill, we should have you able to use your broom anywhere you like. Now, what we may not be able to get you licensed on, are MAV's. Magic assisted vehicles."

"You mean like the Weasley's car, or Hagrid's bike?" Harry's smile was huge, and Lupin laughed despite himself.

"Just like that. Where we use brooms as standard transport in the UK, families and distances are larger here. People rely on vehicles more than brooms, due to weather, distance and fatigue. Also, it seems they enjoy a bit more association with muggle innovation." Lupin pointed to the distant wall, and to his shock Harry saw a late-model, rather sporting looking car glide down and settle to the roadway. The auto then made it's leisurely way toward the official section of Salem. "As you can see."

"Brilliant," Harry murmured with obvious appreciation. "Am I going to get to learn how to drive one?"

Looking pained, Lupin thought for a moment, seeming contemplative. "Perhaps. We'd need to hire an instructor, as neither Tonks or I are licensed. Such things aren't common in our part of the world, and in some cases, seen as breaches of the Statute." Seeing Harry's disappointment, he chuckled. "Chin up. We'll look into it."

Grinning at Harry's enthusiasm, Tonks considered sitting in on those lessons as well. Though it would be nice for him to learn such skills, she found it just as interesting. Besides, why not learn as well? "One other thing, Harry. Here, the age limits on Apparition are sixteen for learning permits, but one can be licensed fully at eighteen. Now, like MAV's, the age limits are broken down into learning and assisted permits, and full licensing. Your passport has your age listed currently at seventeen, with your birthday being shortly after school begins."

"I noticed that, why change it so much?"

"It's not a large change, actually," she smirked. "For one, you're a legal adult in our country, which means this year you'd be able to learn all this normally. In the States, such things aren't based as they are back home, and everyone is considered a minor till the age of eighteen." Realization dawned on Harry, and she nodded. "We altered your age to suit what you can learn. You're simply gaining a year to make up for the difference, here."

Excited all over again, Harry beamed out at the expanse of space and tended lawn before them. "I can't wait to get started."

"We have a month or so before classes begin, so we should have enough time to get some private tutoring in," Lupin noted, making a small reminder for himself in a journal. "Now, the other reason we want to hurry these lessons, is that the licensing course is a not a year long event. Once you prove competency, you gain marks and are done. That would be one more block you could devote to another subject, or independent study."

Biting his lip, Harry turned to lean on the balcony, looking to his left and right along the line of homes. Most sported this kind of access, and he wondered what kind of security it could provide. Shrugging, he thought to Lupin's suggestion and nodded. "Perhaps I have some thing in mind to study. What kind of libraries are around, and what restrictions?"

Brows rising at the sudden change in topic, Remus took a moment to try and recall the answer. Shaking his head apologetically, he had to admit ignorance there. "Not so familiar with the area. Perhaps we can find out as we look about. Also, on restrictions... what did you mean precisely?"

Looking pensive, Harry's expression fell. "What laws against certain spells are there? Like our Unforgivables?"

"Ah," Remus sighed, knowing this conversation had to happen some time. "There is a more complex system here, thanks to a different legality. Any curse used with intent to do harm to another, is illegal. Grades of severity increase from petty jinxes, to killing potential. The difference is, here they rely on citizens reporting those offenses to begin the process. Where our Ministry tracks such things, here it's reactive."

Harry's brow knit and he shook his head. "So, were I to use an Unforgivable here, if no one reported it, I'd not be tried?"

Fidgeting, Lupin trusted his answer wouldn't lead the young man onto a dangerous path. "Yes. If there is no evidence, or report, such things simply aren't presumed."

It took Harry some time to digest that. "So, if I used... say a jellyleg hex to cause someone to stumble in front of a bus-"

"You'd be tried for murder, or some similar charge," Lupin finished, glad to see Harry was using his brain, and not simply letting these things go to his head.

Whistling in appreciation, Harry leaned back again and let that sink in. "What a different world."

Snorting, Remus laughed then. "At least we didn't go to South America or the Asias." When Harry's brow rose, the man smirked, "I don't know if you'd take to well to their versions of local law and typical practice." Letting it go there, Lupin handed Harry the small journal, and smiled. "I put all I could in there, use it well. It's more a guide, as I said, but should have some useful information. Meet me out on the foyer in half, we'll go see the Senate, and get things started."

Thanking the man, Harry watched him pass out of the balcony with a smile. "I would be so lost here without him."

"I know, I'm glad he was going, and I asked him," Tonks added, leaning aside Harry on the railing. "Moody's idea was good, but it didn't give us much to work with. I have to admit, I'd be lost here without Remus."

"Do you think we could help him, with what he's looking for?"

Biting her lip, Tonks sighed. "I'm not sure. It's hard to say if we'd be able to get more information than him, considering the nature of things." When Harry continued to look at her curiously, she chuckled. "Can you smell another Were if you were in the room with one? Or track one after their changing day, by the signs of it, or traces they may leave or still bear?" Seeing him understand, she smiled. "He's in a unique place to do what he needs to. It's why he's not asking for help, or expecting it. And why he's planning on being away for long periods."

After their few private moments that morning, Harry had to suppress the flash of possibilities that sped through his mind, at the idea of having the flat to themselves. Unseen, as she looked out at the Green, Tonks blushed faintly, seeing a few of those images regardless. Her smile didn't waver.

-

* * *

-

Meanwhile: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.

Narcissa was dismissing her recent guests, members of a neutral faction in the Wizengamot, from the recent conflicts. The Zabinis were, some would say, fence sitters. She knew better, understanding that the family had fared well in the last conflict by being neither for or against Voldemort's campaign. This allowed them to broker their votes without being suspect, as well as contribute to the war effort of the Ministry without being seen to hold a preference. Normally, such behavior would be seen as cunning and self-supportive.

Sighing, Narcissa had to disagree. Though experience had shown the Zabinis that neutrality was an acceptable stance, the sister Black knew that such a position would make them targets, all too soon. Before, Voldemort had not needed the usurp the Ministry – he had his agents inside like worms in an apple. Fear and the tactics he employed made it impossible to react in time to save his targets, and those within the Ministry were just wizards, not Aurors or men of power. They were as mortal as she. Fear was a good motivator. Now, the Dark Lord had lost his main power within the Ministry, and as such would be working from below, influencing wizards with threats and likely the livelihood of their families.

Sitting at a desk and rubbing her temple, the woman recalled one of Lucius' glowing recounts of the Dark Lord's tactics.

_"Those cattle had little chance," the man ranted, practically aglow with satisfaction and pride. Though it was early in the war, and their son was safe, Narcissa was already doubting the supposed Dark Lord's practices. "Another family of blood-traitors reduced to ash. His will is unstoppable."_

Lucius had assured her that the powerful wizard only intended to purge the land of the unworthy, those that held back the rightful rule of wizard's of stature. Her own family had backed the effort, and her marriage to Lucius was as much political between the families Malfoy and Black, as Black and Voldemort.

The Malfoys were a continental family, originating in France. One of the 'newer' pure lines, she had regardless assented to her family's will, and married. In her dealings with the burgeoning politician, she had her own hopes for his ascent to power. Now, she questioned such things.

The Ancient House of Black was not a warmongering, barbaric stable of fools to be lead about by the nose. Yet here, some man played at war. Their tactics were cowardly, not the subtle and cunning manipulation of influence and power. What skill was it to ward a home and prevent travel from it, then torch the structure to bedrock? What did it accomplish?

Sneering to the wall, she sighed. Even the cattle among men had a use. You didn't torch the fields of a conquered people – you used them to fuel your own war.

Shaking off the tiresome recollection, she tuned her thoughts to the home she dwelled in. In the week she worked with the former Lord, and now Lord again, Harry Potter, she had sent her son abroad, hoping his French cousins would settle his unhealthy focus on the Dark Lord and his sheep of a father. Their lessons were very informative, and also slightly shocking.

Though they'd rarely been done, she knew that blood inheritance rituals sometimes had strange repercussions. Looking into Harry's abilities, she had to assume this was such a case. Passing on by way of magical oath the Lordship Black to her, the Law should have left him. Should have broken tie, and stopped being accessible. Instead, he simply continued to access it, as if nothing had happened.

Initially she suspected trickery, but through the lessons with the mind magics that the Lordship allowed, she knew better. The boy, young man rather, simply didn't have those ties severed. Was it some consequence of his connection to Sirius? Was it a quirk of the ritual? She had no answers, and only more questions.

More curious still, was Harry's connection to his own Law. Merlin what mental fortitude! There was another reason, other than political that wizards were not allowed to hold the Lordship of more than one Ancient House. Madness. It should take nearly if not more than a decade of exposure and acclamation to attune one's self to the Law as he had done, before the reading. That the Black Law was immense, covering a large span of England and London, specifically, was no less a factor.

She knew, from her own exposure, that given the same experience as the Boy-Who-Lived to such magics, she'd be left a gibbering fool. That he could somehow manage to hold his own Law, and that of the House Black... her mind shuddered to comprehend the possibilities.

Focusing on her son and away from musings on the past, the Law pointed her to Draco, who was sitting in his room, reading. Smiling to herself, she let the home arrange a slow walk for her, allowing her son time to finish his missive.

Knocking on the youth's door, she was shortly bade entry, and she did so with a smile. "Draco, I trust... you..." trailing off, she saw the dark green envelope, open and with an unfolded letter read on his table. Much in the way of her own letter, some months ago. Schooling her expression, she painted on a pleasant smile. "So, my son. What news from the Dark Lord?"

Looking pensive, the young man stood and passed so her view of the desk was obscured. "He simply updates us, on the war effort."

Narrowing her eyes, she let her pleasant expression falter. "Draco. I did not ask for vague accounts. What news?"

Snapping his eyes up at her tone, he swallowed and nodded. "Forgive me. The Lord... he worries on our... loyalty."

"Our? You mean of course, my loyalty."

Wincing as if struck, Draco turned his face from her and nodded.

Narcissa willed the house to obey her, and the desk's surface went liquid and pliable. Shortly, the missive was pulled from view, while Draco's back was turned. "And what else? I don't expect such idle banter to warrant the Lord's attention, or all his time would be spend waving a pen, not a wand."

Shrinking from his mother's intensity, Draco turned his chair and sat upon it heavily. "He asks what headway you've made in assuring his agents and interests in the Ministry. With the filthy blood-traitor's killing of father, the Lord lacks his greatest influence there." Starting his answer quietly, Draco's voice went cold and laced with venom as he spoke of Lucius' death.

With a sigh, Narcissa summoned the missive from the home, bending the small space between it's walls and her hand with effort. Such things were similar to the Accio spell, but again, the Law _was_ magic. How it manifested was limited to the power of the user, and their connection to it.

Draco's eyes widened at his mother's apparent use of obscure magics, and then again in fear at her possession of his letter. "Mother, please, let me-"

"_Silence_." The word, empowered, carried the force of the spell, and Draco fell silent as his mouth worked futilely.

Her eyes narrowing further, Narcissa read again the flowing, serpentine script of Voldemort's hand.

_My most loyal Draco,_

_I send my deepest regards, in the passing of your father, one of my most esteemed servants. It sorrows me that Lucius will no longer be by your side, leading you in the way of the righteous, and instructing you in the path's to power._

_As you may have heard, the whelp Potter was key in the resistance to my will in the Ministry. It was also he, working through his usurping of your family's rightful heritage, that have lead to his death._

_Those that serve me faithfully, as your father in his long years as my vassal, will always find my power at their aid. Those that fail me in those expectations, will see only my wrath, and the absence of my notice._

_Which bring me to your mother, Narcissa. I had thought to find the recent widow of he who held my trust to be deep in grief, but no. I find her placing her trust in Potter, at the reading of the will where your birthright would have been attained. I find her holding his council while you, my young servant, are being sent abroad. Curious, I wonder what other private discussions occurred. _

_Forgive me, I do not mean to besmirch your family, Draco. I simply find myself... disappointed. I know you will find the strength to cleanse the name Malfoy, so that I may look upon it's ascent with pride, beside my own. _

_The war continues, young Draco. On all fronts. Many of my most loyal, most dedicated and stalwart agents have proven themselves in the cleansing of their own blood, freeing their Houses of those that would be traitor to the supremacy of our cause. I understand your Aunt, my most cherished Bellatrix was the one that sent the blood-traitor Sirius through the Veil. _

_I would mourn the necessity of asking Bella to visit her sister, needlessly. She has proven her worth, and earned her mark, my mark, already._

_I hope that my words reach you, Draco. It is a critical time in your service. My will, as you are well aware, shall be. Regardless of which tool, hand or servant performs it._

_Your Lord, _

_Voldemort_

Blood chilled by the tone and open threat in the letter, Narcissa tried to quell the rage and fear that beat through her veins, drummed against her ears. So, he wants me dead... and if Draco does not do the act, he will have my dear Bella extinguish me and likely my Draco, she reasoned through her rage.

Looking up at her only child steadily, Narcissa let the note fall to her side and watched Draco's ice blue eyes follow it, then find her own. "So. You have read the Dark Lord's missive then?"

Nodding slowly, Draco let his eyes drop from her own. Narcissa felt a trail of ice creep along her spine, at his distance. "You understand his will?"

From his side, previously hidden in fold of his robes, she noted his hand, slack. His fingers curled around the shaft the wand, there. "I see."

What could she do... Narcissa knew that in this home she could literally pulls walls down on top of intruders, pull the floor from under then, cause furnishings to assault them... but Draco! She could not act against her son. It was foolishness, naïve idiocy that she'd assured Potter that if Draco turned fully to the Dark Lord she could walk away from it.

Voldemort did not let those who slighted him walk free.

"Hand me the letter, mother."

Shaken from her thoughts, Narcissa looked back up to Draco and saw only an icy void, behind those crystal eyes. Numb herself, as if long within such a place, she held it forward, where it was taken gently from her hands. Ah, so he means to keep the letter, a trophy perhaps. Will I be his first kill, she wondered? Or has his father, perhaps even his godfather claimed rights to such a venture? No matter. Let it be done.

Unable to act against the only thing she still loved in this world, Narcissa stood, still as if carved from ice, and closed her eyes.

She heard to rustling of cloth, and imagined Draco raising his hand.

A pause...

An intake of breath, and the sound of a wand splitting the air.

"_Incindeo_."

She almost choked on her breath, biting back a sob. Oh no, no fast death for her. Apparently she would... die... slowly? No heat, no pain washed over her, as the fire she expected never came.

Curiously she let her eyes slip open, to see Draco holding the letter by a corner, as flames licked up along it's edges. Blinking, barely believing her eyes, Narcissa looked back to her son, and this time did let her tears come.

Draco looked at the letter in disgust, undisguised. That the man who called himself Dark Lord would be so stupid as to demand the death of his mother. Oh, he did idolize Lucius, as all young boys would, with a doting parent that gave them every desire.

Yet, he was not stupid. For years, since he was groomed to move as well into the world of politics and intrigue, he'd been schooled on what fights were worth the effort, what demands worth consideration, and what threats could carry their weight. Draco knew something very strange was going on with his mother, but she showed no signs of Unforgivables, no suspect behavior, and certainly wasn't endangering him, beyond the defiance of Voldemort's will itself.

Why would she send him away, except to spare him something, or protect him? Perhaps she did meet with that ingrate Potter – she now held the Lordship of the House Black, making her Lady of it's legacy. When he'd last seen Potter at his uncle's will reading, he'd assumed that mantle.

News of her actions in the Wizengamot were not hard to come by. Even that rag, the Quibbler had the same slant on her change of tune. Not so much supporting the cause of mudbloods and half bloods, she was instrumental in seeing a number of tax and legislative blocks against Voldemort's supporters, as well as quietly neutralizing any indecisive parties that could jeopardize certain actions.

Recently, the Headmastership was granted additional powers to divert funding to new programs, and with a day-long session in the Wizengamot, a new program to run an after class practical defense program was set up.

Honeydukes was purchased by a private investor, and a new, larger shop was quickly being erected across the street, while workers closed and were renovating the old shop in flurry of activity. Word was that Goblins had been seen on-site, working with the construction team, but never seen more than a few moments, and then rarely leaving. She was seen at the site, speaking with various foremen.

Individually, none of these would be a serious broach of protocol, for her position to act on, but Narcissa's hand was in each one. That on only few occasions, ones Draco easily saw as smokescreens to divert any suspicion of powerblocking between the Houses Potter and Black, the two branches of influence crossed words or opinions said much. It simply wasn't possible, in many ways to hide her loyalties, or as Voldemort's letter implied, lack thereof.

"For what we have both done, the Dark Lord will demand some balance, mother. Can you tell me why you back the blood-trai..." sighing, Draco rubbed angrily at his face. "Why you back Potter." Fairly spitting the name, Draco sank down to his desk chair, looking drawn and weary.

Narcissa let loose a breath she was unaware of holding. "Draco, do you remember the reading? How a presence touched us both, and how our magic responded?"

Nodding, Draco repressed a shiver. "It was like having someone reach inside me and take hold of my heart."

"It was Harry Potter, Draco. When he assumed to Law, which I've been teaching you sparingly as you've grown, your connection to my blood gave him that power." Watching her son, and the warring thoughts plain on his face, she was suddenly aware of her own weariness. "Let us move to the den. So we can speak at length."

For the next hour, Narcissa explained why she made her pact with Harry Potter. How she knew of his status, how he would one day be Lord Potter, and as such, must lose the Lordship Black. Explained how she was in the unique position to take it back, but would do so for her family and not the goals of another. She explained how much pride and hope she'd placed in Lucius, to be the man that would show the wizarding world that again, the Ancient House of Black would be preeminent.

Narcissa explained her disappointment and later disgust in a man, who once his own force to be reckoned with, became no more than another's servant. They argued then, about Lucius but she was adamant, and in time Draco understood. He wasn't happy, but he understood.

"You did all this for my benefit," he asked, gaze unfocused and distant as the night wore on to early morning. Again he wondered at the depth of his own mother's guile and cunning. Though he'd believed his father to be the force behind their family, and the Blacks simply an old bloodline quickly bleeding itself out, this... this all painted a different picture.

Nodding, Narcissa drank deeply of the tea she'd prepared herself. "I would pass to you the heritage of my family, when you are ready. When it is again something to be proud of, and worth of it's place in our world."

Fighting back his own anger, Draco looked back to her, searching her eyes for any lie, "And Potter, he agreed to this? He knows of your plan, of your intent?"

Staring back at Draco, she nodded somberly. "He is... young. Naïve, hopeful and brash. In another time, he would be an ideal tool to use against our enemies, and to dispose of once used up." Sighing, she stood and took a deep breath. "Now, he is the one, though he may not see it, pulling the strings."

"I just don't understand how... why him? What possible..." Draco trailed off as his mother rested a hand on his shoulder.

Looking down at him tiredly, she shook her head. "Life is often confusing. I asked those questions too, and came only to a certain conclusion." Smirking, she hid a yawn behind her hand. "Luck, and perseverance. He refuses to do anything but survive and overcome. Whether it is his magic, some outside force or a divine mandate, he has done exactly that."

Running a hand tiredly though his now disheveled hair, Draco still had issue with reconciling Potter to such a powerful force now in their world. Though he may not agree, may not like it... he was developing a grudging respect for the other wizard. If only for his actions to restore a sense of honor to his mother. "I need to think. All this... and my own decision. I need some time."

Narcissa nodded, but paused before leaving the room, her stilling gaining Draco's attention. "Why did you not act on the Dark Lord's order?"

Smirking amusedly at her, his usual expression returned, albeit shadowed by weariness and the weight of his own decision. "Because you are my mother, and I love you."

Narcissa smiled, and bade her son good night, content for now that perhaps her family could have a future in this maddening war. Tomorrow, they had another battle to fight.

-

* * *

-

After taking lunch, the three met with Remus and too their first trip into Salem. Harry was in awe of the scope of the Green and it's enchantments, how the village was sealed by the Wall away from the normal notice of muggles by the heavy enchantments laid down by the Founders.

In a way, it reminded him of Hogwarts. Here, the founding wizards made a place safe for their people, their families and empowered it to remain after them, sustaining itself after their passing.

Trying not to boggle like a common tourist, Harry kept pace with his friends, as they made the short trip from their new home to the Senate. Taking the Walk, Harry was surprised to see a large number of bicycles, foot traffic and even to his shock, an automobile. The clock tower present on the Senate's facing wall let them know it was 2 PM, and even at such a non-peak time, the Walk was teeming with people. Trying to place the village in scope, he would have to admit that Diagon would have fit on the street their flat occupied.

The New England Wizarding Senate, or most often just called the Senate, occupied a large and sprawling building, looking very much like a modern office building sat upon by a church. "I wonder if they're modernizing," he mused as they passed along it's face toward the doors.

"Hard to say. It's certainly an odd building," Tonks added, as they came upon the main doors, and the wizards attending them.

Here again were the rather severely dressed and serious men, wearing their odd glasses and black suits. Eyeing them nervously, Harry was surprise when one simply motioned them in, after giving the three a piercing look. "You are expected in room 2501. Second floor. The directory will show you the way."

As they entered, Harry leaned closer to Remus, who seemed shaken as well. "Is that normal," he asked in a whisper, to which the Werewolf only shrugged.

"I've never spent time in the US, only researched. I suppose there really is only so much you can learn in books," the man remarked, earning a snort from Harry.

"Never tell Hermione that. Her world would collapse."

The small joke lightened the mood, as the three took a rather impressive lift to the next floor, passing very little of the building's contents on the way. Once out of the lift, they saw the mentioned directory, settled on the wall across from them.

At least, that's what the thing said iself to be. Currently it was a blank board. Walking up to, Harry made to reach out and touch the blank space within the frame, but suddenly the number '2501' flashed up, and he hopped back in surprise. As they looked on, the numbers stretched and deformed, growing into a floor plan of their location. A red path lit along it, and they saw their destination, winking balefully in red.

"Two halls down to the left, third door on the right then," Tonks noted, blinking nervously.  
"Excuse me," another voice sounded behind them, and the three shuffled quickly to the side, as man addressed the board impatiently, getting his own directions.

Wasting no more time, they marched down the rather nondescript halls, simple tile in a bland faux marble and walls of a white plaster passing numbingly. Harry was becoming confused by the overwhelming sameness, when Tonks stopped, pointing to the door they were before. "Here we are."

Remus looked around them, seeing more doors of the same kind. "I don't see an office title on any of these. I thought we'd be coming to a registry office."

Shrugging, Tonks looked about her and admitted that things did seem to be unusual. "I don't know. Perhaps there's something we're missing."

Looking between the other two, Lupin settled his wand more accessibly, and saw them doing the same. Harry only had his Holly wand with him, and suddenly found himself missing the other one sorely.

Knocking on the door, Lupin was greeted with a terse "Enter!" and the three passed within quietly.

Unlike the hall, the room was comfortably furnished adding to the confusion of the three. Right red carpets, wood paneled walls and portraits looked greeted them, all leading them to a wide, mahogany table. Sitting behind it, was an aged gentleman with short gray hair, rheumy eyes that still had a peircing intensity, and skin that looked like old parchment. Rising with some trouble, the man smoothed his brown suit and gestured to the seats arrayed before the desk. "Please have a seat," the man instructed, seeming quite used to his orders being carried out.

Harry swallowed the dry nervousness that had built up in their trip to the room, and now felt all the more trapped. What had gone wrong? They had taken steps, worked on their stories, hells they weren't here more than a day! Cursing his luck, the Boy-Who-Lived settled in a chair and waited to see what new disaster was brewing.

Regarding them all rather impassively after taking his seat again, the man finally released a rather irritated sigh. "I should have the lot of you locked up."

Holding up a hand to still their protests, the man shook his head slowly. "Be still. Since you aren't, and haven't been yet, obviously there's something else going on, so be still and listen." Taking a rather terse breath, the man looked from one of them to another and nodded shortly. "Your Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour contacted your embassy and warned us you may clumsily try to disguise yourselves, and would be arriving via normal methods into the country. Rest assured had he not contacted us, you would likely have been dragged off the plane stunned and incapacitated."

Wincing, Tonks looked like she would say something but the man again stilled her. "A Werewolf, a celebrity, and a metamorph with government training. What a mess."

Reaching into a drawer, the man pulled out a series of papers, and a small device that looked like a pencil sharpener. "We'll get the important things first. Magically sign these, then place the tip of your wand in the aperture, then cast a minor revealing charm," he said curtly, before sitting back expectantly.

Remus blinked, before leaning forward, placing his hands on the desk. "Who are you?" Tone relaying all the confusion and uncertainty of the day, he was taken aback as the man laughed quietly.

"You would do well, when traveling abroad, to seek more council from your government, but Minister Scrimgeour let us know your circumstances," the man replied, smiling in such a way that it never reached his eyes. "I am Warren Alexander, Director of Immigration and Cultural Affairs, NEWS division. NEWS being our way of referring to the Senate. Less exaggerated."

Taking up a form he'd not put in front of them, he looked back up and the smile, empty as it was, broadened. "You are, Mr. Remus Lupin, currently in the US as an Andrew McDermott," Turning to Harry, he pointed with the paper, and continued. "You sir, are Mr. Harry Potter, entering as Joseph Black. And you Miss, would be Nymphadora Tonks, commonly referred to simply as Tonks, forgive my use of your given name, but you understand my point. We are well aware of your few aliases, but Natalie Thompson seems to be the one of choice, for your visit to our fair country." Settling the form down, he gestured to their own, and raised one brow. "Please, do begin."

Remus, somewhat befuddled, did as he was asked and the process, only took a moment. When he was done, the form reflected his wand composition, age, and a string of numbers. "This is your registration. You'll be issued a copy when we are finished here. Mr. Potter, your turn." When Harry was done, the man simply looked at him with an inscrutable expression and said nothing, moving on to Tonks.

When they were done, the man collected their forms and settled back with a sigh. "I hate it when people assume my offices so stupid as to not be able to see though simple glamors and false paperwork. Your Goblins are good, yes, but lucky for you the Minister contacted us. I'm not going to ask about why and what. That's been explained somewhat." Looking piercingly at Harry, the man continued, "But I insist on an explanation, from you, on why Salem, and what you intend to do here."

Harry had faced a number of intimidating characters, but this man, old and wrinkled and frail looking, exuded authority and threat like no one else he'd met. It was like staring down a trolley. "Sir, we mean no disrespect-"

"Too late for niceties, Mr. Potter. Your answer please."

"Right," grimacing, Harry took a stilling breath. "I came to Salem to learn. The short version is simply that. The longer version would be that I'm here to escape the network of intrigue and politics that wait for me back in England, long enough with people more competent there working in those regards, to learn what I need to return and finish some unpleasant business."

The old man's lips quirked up at Harry's response. "I see Mrs. Black has been a good influence on you. Yes, I have heard of your problems and reasons already. I just wanted to hear you say it yourself," the man explained, leaning back and peaking his hands before him.

Gesturing to the desk, refreshments appeared and he took a glass of cognac for himself. "We will not interfere, but I offer you some advice, Mr. Potter.

"Do no go looking for trouble here. We do not tolerate glory seeking, nor do we typically offer to overlook such ill-conceived ruses," taking a drink from the glass the man regarded them coolly. "Were it not impressed upon me the necessity of your actions, I'd see you thrown back to your island and the border closed to you permanently for this."

Anger growing, Harry's eyes narrowed and he shrugged off the hand Tonks laid on his arm, trying to still him. "Exactly what do you hope to gain, Mr. Alexander, by making the most influential single politician in the Wizengamot very irritated at you?"

The man across from him smiled then, genuinely, putting Harry off balance again. "There. That is what I hoped to see. Mr. Potter, you've not been long in our world, either magical, mundane or political." Gesturing again at the small service of tea, drinks and small biscuits, the man continued as they hesitantly sampled. "I was expecting a pompous, self-important brat, but what I got was a nervous, wary young man. Color me surprised. Back to the point... remember Mr. Potter, that some wars, even some small battles, are fought with many weapons. You have quite a few in your arsenal. Don't let them grow dull and unused."

Nodding quietly, Harry considered the man's words and saw what he'd try to tell him. Figuring this also likely was on Rufus' suggestion, he made a mental note to give the man a piece of his mind when he returned. "I understand, Mr. Alexander. My apologies for not respecting your offices, or my own responsibilities."

"Good, good." Taking up one of the light baked cakes, the man regarded them in a more friendly tone, "Now, back to business, in a more friendly sense. Salem should suit your purposes well. Have you written up a schedule?" At Harry's tentative nod, the man gestured for it, and Harry pulled it from his pocket.

"Remus helped me with classes, as I'm not familiar with the way your schools would equate to ours," he explained, shrugging to Lupin. "Why did you want to see it?"

Grinning up at the young wizard, Warren cast a duplication charm on the paper. "I intend to help you along the way, Mr. Potter. Never let it be said that the NEWS was unwilling to help. On the contrary, we are very interested in seeing your Lord Voldemort defeated. Such is bad politics, after all." Seeing Harry's confusion, the man elaborated, "England is an upstanding member of the world wizarding community, and since this situation began, Her influence has done little but wane. Now, we are on good terms, the US I mean, with a number of European block governments. England, though, is our main ally, both in terms of policy and military situations."

"Military situations?"

"Indeed," nodding to the far wall, Harry noticed then the numerous pictures, maps and documents lining it. "I've been involved in many uprisings, both directly and from these offices. Since Grindelwald, there has been a very... insular policy enacted in your Wizengamot. England has turned her eyes inward, and does not see her potential allies abroad, now."

With a shock, Harry understood this man's words very clearly. "Since Dumbledore took over the position of Chief Warlock."

Smiling over his glass, the man gave him a savage smile. "Precisely. Albus is a fine man, but as of his appointment, little headway has been made between our two fine countries. A shame really, there is quite a lot we could teach and offer one another."

"I... I think I see your point, Mr. Alexander," Harry said carefully. "I will be sure to contact Minister Scrimgeour and inform him of our hopes that that attitude will change."

Standing, the man extended his hand, looking genial and utterly friendly, a far difference from the severe, hostile attitude they'd entered to. "I look forward to progress on that front, Lord Potter."

"Please, just Harry."

"Warren then, I insist." The two shook hands, and behind Harry, Tonks and Remus shared a look.

"Ah, I think we need to be about seeing the rest of the city, Mr. Alexander," Tonks interjected quietly, earning her an amused chuckle from the man.

Crossing from behind his desk, the man handed Harry a small card discreetly, making sure that he closed the young man's hand over it after. "Yes I see I've kept you quite long enough. Salem is a beautiful city, and we are rather proud of the Academy as well. Please, enjoy your stay."

Remus, cottoning on stood and made his way beside Harry to the door. "If we happen to need any other help-"

"I'm sure you can find the appropriate offices, referred by our staff at the main desk," the man finished congenially.

Before they'd really registered it, Warren Alexander had ushered them from the room, and Harry barely had the chance to wish the man good day, before with a chuckle the door closed behind them.

Standing there, the three looked from one another for a minute. Tonks looked slightly scared, while Remus just seemed confused. Harry was deep in thought, but silent.

Finally, it was Tonks that broke the silence, "What... what just happened."

"I think we just got smacked on the nose for being foolish," with a growing grin, Harry removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. "That and I was given a message, and a lesson."

Remus gathered his wits and pointed them back toward the lift, as they moved to leave. As they walked, he inquired, "What lesson?"

"You can't escape politics," was Harry's simple reply, as the lift dinged, letting them know it had arrived.

-

* * *

-

As the afternoon wore on Harry, Remus and Tonks spoke more about their plans, and what needed to be done. Today they would all be recovering from the trip abroad, and the awkward trip to the Senate.

Oswald was called and hired for a modest rate, but they also negotiated for the odd elf to be allowed room and board, as apparently the current situation was for Oswald to return to his current quarters in Boston at the end of each day. Harry wondered if perhaps they should simply summon Dobby, but Remus laughed and requested them not to.

"But why? He's already loyal, and seems perfectly happy to help," Harry wasn't happy about feeling like he'd abandoned another friend, and particularly one as useful as Dobby had proven to be.

Remus smiled, but still would not budge on his point. "The main reason why Harry, is that Dobby is Dobby," seeing the young wizard's confusion and growing irritation, the Werewolf explained. "We are here, to get out of the spotlight. The last thing you need is a half-crazed elf, wandering about extolling the virtues of 'The great wizard Harry Potter sir'."

Wincing, Harry had no other arguments.

Looking back over his class schedule, Harry asked about the other unfamiliar subjects that Remus had suggested. "Alchemical Potions? Artifice? I'm not sure what those are."

Tonks picked up the schedule, and gave Remus a critical look. "Are you sure about this?"

Snatching the paper back, Harry did little to hide his irritation, already exacerbated by their trip to the Senate and the meeting with Alexander. "I appreciate you both trying to help, but a little information goes a long way. I don't like being guided blindly, I've had enough of that, thank you very much."

Voice firm, Remus pushed Harry back down in his seat. "Easy. I'm not planning to send you to the dogs, or loose you blindly. We've been here a day, and we fully intend to explain everything. So save your anger for where it's due, cub."

Sighing, the young wizard nodded and looked apologetically at Tonks and Remus. "Sorry. Just still a bit wound up I suppose."

"Understandable," Lupin agreed gruffly, sitting as well. "Alchemy is a common name for an advanced kind of potion making, that normally would not be taught at Hogwarts. Some schools vary the amount of actual magic involved, and after watching Snape's lessons, I think we may need to have you do some preemptive study this year."

"I may not have gotten top marks but I wasn't horrible-"

"That isn't what I meant," Lupin cut Harry off, before his rant could build steam. "Snape was a piss-poor teacher. He wasn't cut out to do the job. He was an excellent Potions Master, but that doesn't mean anything when it comes to being qualified to teach others." Sighing, the Werewolf sat a textbook down on the table by the schedule and tapped it with a finger. "This is a good remedial text. We'll set up a small lab so you can practice some of the simpler topics."

Feeling like a fool for his overreacting, Harry simply nodded quietly. Looking back over the paper, he noticed it was a grade one class and his brow furrowed. "Remus, this should be my sixth year. Isn't there a level of the equivalent class I could take?"

Scanning the schedule, Remus saw Harry's mistake. "You forgot to look over the required classes, and the full description. This isn't Potions I, it's a conglomerate class using principles from Transfiguration and Potions disciplines."

Embarrassed, Harry just nodded and looked over the list more carefully. Shortly he realized that the list was coded so he could look up the actual class descriptions in an added text, that would detail each course. Coming to the next class on the list he'd wondered about, his brow rose. "Creating magical devices, empowering items temporarily and permanently, and the understanding of the principles allowing this. Sounds complicated."

Grinning, Tonks reached over and took their salt shaker in hand, murmuring and incanting a moment. Shortly, the item glowed blue briefly and went back to normal. "Back home, we had separate offices for some aspects of that, and it was controlled. Portkeys, are an artifice skill. You temporarily empower an item to allow instant travel. It could also be argued to be a charm, with a transfiguration effect. Disciplines aren't wholly separate."

"Why wasn't there a class on this at Hogwarts then?"

Wincing, Tonks loosed a sigh and canceled the enchantment on the shaker. "The Ministry didn't want students learning how to make Portkeys too soon. Offices of licensing control who is taught that."

Looking between Tonks and Lupin, Harry shook his head, "But the Death Eaters had Portkeys. How do you explain that?"

Tonks rolled her eyes and took up her water. "You don't expect them to follow the law, do you?"

Letting the subject go, Harry saw what they'd tried to impart. The Ministry, hoping to control people to keep another uprising from occurring, limited people so much that when the next, or in this case most recent, dark wizard returned they had so much power as to be nearly unstoppable. "It's so stupid. People could escape so easy if they could travel freely, or learn better wards, or knew spells to fight."

"Ah, but better wards would keep out the government and allow citizens too much security. What need then of the taxes, used to fund not only the Aurors, but the Ministry itself? Freely available transportation without restriction would make monitoring who was and was not in the country very difficult, and therefore even harder to track. Teaching people battle-worthy magics is asking for rebellion." Remus smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Can you honestly see Fudge, that skittish little fool, managing the Ministry with half as much control on those things?"

Laughing, Harry had to admit that Lupin had a point. The more freedoms a people had, the less control a government had on them. The Ministry's actions since Grindelwald was proof that a reactionary leadership without solid grounding in civilian life was destined to fail, and fall.

Wondering at his own logic, Harry reviewed quietly, as Remus and Tonks argued mildly over something. Was the Ministry destined to fall? Rather, could it truly do so? As an office under another actual governing body, namely the Queen, what would happen if the Ministry became utterly ineffective? Supposedly the Queen had to have some knowledge of the Ministry, or was the agreement such that once created, the offices would disappear from knowledge?

More questions, without obvious answers. As they settled down to a simple afternoon meal, Harry considered what he'd learned already. Judging from what he knew of Voldemort's education, that being initially Hogwarts, simply what he was doing gave him an edge. Considering he also had the second wand, something easy enough to attain in truth, he also had that as an advantage, against the brother wand effect, were that to occur again. Voldemort may have thought of this as well, but at least Harry had the option too.

The unknowns were what distressed him. What did he learn from Grindelwald? What knowledge could have been passed on, and what would be the effect of it? Was Voldemort's seeming immortality due to that knowledge? Again, Harry wished Dumbledore having known his prophecy, simply confided in him.

Thoughts of the Headmaster brought on a raging headache, and Harry stood, excusing himself. "Wait, what about setting up your identity, Harry?"  
Tonks' voice made him hesitate, and the young wizard just leaned on the foyer doorway, looking up the stairs toward his room. "I'll have to do it later. I'm not going to be able to focus on it tonight." Without another word, he left the two adults peering after him curiously.

"Wonder what's bothering him," Tonks wondered, knowing well how much was on the young man. She was more interested in which particular thing it was, that as telling on him so harshly.

Remus folded the various papers back into a manageable state, and set them aside neatly. Considering them a moment, he took one and handed it to the young woman. "I'd wager he's worried about Ron and Hermione. Or perhaps the meeting with our Mr. Alexander still has him shaken. We can try to help, but it'll take some work. If not that... well. There's a lot of things. Perhaps he's just feeling the weight of all that's on him."

Nodding, Tonks had to admit, the prophecy on it's own was a heavy burden. Harry just seemed to collect more, rather than shed those things he'd had before. Looking over the paper she'd been handed, her eyes widened slightly. "Where did you get this?"

On the sheet was a map, rough and approximate, of the US with a number of darkened areas. Each one held a small glyph over it, many of which looked like crudely cut pictographs. "This is a rough map of the clans and their borders, from a few years ago. It's not uncommon for one such as me to find one, so that they can either go about their business quickly, or foul up and get killed before upsetting the status quo."

When Tonks made a move to hand it back, Remus shook his head. "I have a copy," he replied shortly. "This is in case you must find me. I'll try to leave word of which area, what clan I'm going to see, but I have to stress only to seek me out in emergencies. Most of these clans aren't very friendly to outsiders."

"I doubt we'd be able to find them anyway. Don't they hide themselves like back home?"

"Sometimes," Remus replied carefully, but didn't say more. Tonks shortly found herself weary as well, and figuring it would take some time to become accustomed to the new time change, went to reacquaint herself with the lovely bed her rooms afforded her.

Used to much later nights, Remus stayed awake well into the night, listening to the world outside. The Green, the nearby flats, apartments and homes. As the moon rose outside, he grimaced, seeing how far along to full it was becoming. Another week, at most.

Shortly he'd need to acquire by some means the Wolfsbane he needed to keep his mind during the Change, and lessen it's hold on him. Unlike Snape, he was no Potions Master, and such a thing was simply beyond his skill to make. Leaning back, his head banged into the nearby wall but he didn't blink or unfix his gaze from the moon overhead.

Would his errand succeed? Could he find those of his kind, that knew how to harness and contain their lesser self? Would he be able to understand such a thing? Closing his eyes, Lupin tried to imagine a world in which he could be a person, not an animal.

He was secretly glad of Harry's naïvety, as that kept the harsher questions at bay. Rubbing idly at his shoulder, where long ago the bite that had turned him still burned on occasion, Lupin wondered at what those here knew that he didn't. Supposedly Grayback was immensely powerful for a Werewolf, and there was a broken kind of regard for him on the continent, what small time he'd spent there.

Back home, there were murmurings of other pack leaders, also immensely strong and able to rule small communities and even kingdoms, of their kind. Lupin boggled at such a thing. Lycanthropy to him was a disease, that would be like... shaking his head, the man sighed and let the legs of his chair clatter to the floor.

Perhaps Harry had the right idea. Stilling his mind, the Werewolf sought his room, and hoped that this night his dreams would not be haunted by nightmares bearing his own form. Tomorrow would begin their lessons, and hopefully the real beginning of their time in Salem. It would do well to get a good night's rest.

-

* * *

-

A/N: Clarifications;

Lind is not in the US to observe Europe's views on Grayback, but the packs present in the US and the attitudes of the wizarding community there. Hence her need to be in Salem, and close to what equates to a cultural center. Civilian, government and education all observable. It doesn't make sense to think she would be in Salem otherwise.

The continuing theme of government and politics, though again apparent, isn't the main theme of the story. Harry just has yet to find his role in that completed.


End file.
